


Night Terrors

by SrebrnaFH



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Anorexia, Engagement, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Violence, Marriage Proposal, Minor Violence, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SrebrnaFH/pseuds/SrebrnaFH
Summary: Whole castle is full of people happy to be alive and human. Two of them however are having a very trying time adjusting to the changes.





	1. Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> That came recently, due to watching too many clips from B&B in a row.  
> Also, my first FF posted here. I'm scared.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That" she said testily. "I keep expecting you to be... bigger. Taller. Do you know how hard it is? I never remember where to look if I want to see your eyes. I keep aiming..." she weaved her hand. "Like a head over your own. And I can't recognise you in the crowd just by your shape. And..."
> 
> "You're complaining about me looking more like a human?" he finally asked incredulously. "Really?"

He curled up under the table in the castle library. The cloth was long enough to hide him from casual glances and he shivered on the stone floor, rocking himself to and fro.

The nightmares came back every night. Every night he tried something else to chase them away - he only avoided strong spirits, as he felt his self-control was weak enough already. Nothing helped. Eating. Not eating. Not touching tea. Drinking milk (cold and hot). Wearing himself out by running around the castle for entire evening, until he dropped. Cold room. Warm room. Soft bed. Sleeping on the floor. Even sleeping on the balcony, despite the rain. Every night, ever since the curse was lifted, the same dream woke him, to the sound of his own screams and sobs.

_First he was sitting in a tall-backed chair, almost like a throne, and a number of people were gathered, awaiting something in excitement. He felt his own anticipation, his hands - proper human hands - trembling and his stomach full of butterflies._

_The fine coat he was wearing was of rich blue velvet, perfectly chosen to match his eyes. Snug breeches and tight-fitting shirt were all according to the latest fashions, joined by an elaborate arrangement of a cravat that Lumiere spent almost half an hour on._

_He fidgeted a bit, biting his lip - with his proper human teeth - and breathing slowly to calm himself and attempted to track specific courtiers in the room to distract himself from the object of his wait. He managed to locate Lumiere flirting in the corner with a maidservant and Cogsworth watching them with pursed lips, but Mrs Potts was probably in the kitchen, overseeing the preparations to..._

_Finally, she entered, and the room hushed. She walked slowly up the central aisle of the room, left free by all the people milling around. All golden and brown and amber, she looked even more exquisite than the evening when they first danced. Suddenly everyone was looking at her, and he was looking at her, but she was looking down demurely, not meeting his eyes until the last moment, when she stood in front of the small dais._

_She raised her eyes and he saw the wide pupils of her eyes, colour almost entirely gone, and saw her hands gripping each other so tightly that her gloves strained. He rose to meet her and as he walked down the mere three steps that were between the chair and the floor, she seemed more and more alarmed. When finally he lifted a hand to help her to her seat she_ _**flinched** _ _away from him._

_His arm dropped to his side and he looked in astonishment at the tiny woman who held his heart in her hands - and apparently was so frightened of him that she saw even such a simple movement as dangerous. He stepped forward, holding both palms up and open, hoping to reason with her, to understand what happened and why she was so afraid of him in such a public space, in front of all the audience - including some of their beloved friends - but she stepped back, then again, looking too terrified to even breathe properly._

_And suddenly she was tripping over the hem of her dress, which got obviously caught with the heel of her dancing slipper, and she was falling, progress down slightly impeded by the dress itself, but no less assured for it. He was there in an eyeblink, catching her right before she could hit the floor with her silk-clad back, and he was holding her slight frame, feeling every tiny bone and shuddering breath._

_She swallowed convulsively and shivered, people around them crowding ever closer to see what the commotion was about. He rose, holding her close to his body, but the moment he turned towards the throne-like chairs, she started screaming and begging him to let her go. It was becoming harder to keep his hold on her, so he shifted her a bit higher, for a better grip, and she turned her face away from him, covering her head with both hands._

_Finally, he saw faint, yellow-blue marks on the skin just under her elbows._

_His heart was beating faster and his breath was coming more as a growl than as an actual inhale. His arms tightened around her and she cried out in pain._

_For a moment, everything stood still._

_For a moment, he stopped even breathing._

_For a moment, the whole chamber was hushed._

_Then his own pain started, as he listened to the pitiful sounds she made, he felt his arms and legs changing shape, forcing him to drop her in surprise. He felt hairs suddenly covering his whole body, poking through roughened skin and forming long fur._

_She curled up on the floor in front of him, as he stood there, covered with fur, fine clothing gone - ripped at the seams by the arising Beast. He growled and she shook in terror. He tried picking her up and maybe - just maybe - getting her to her room, but she crawled away and in a flash he understood where the bruises were coming from._

_And suddenly he was terrified, too. Because obviously the curse was still with them and giving in to his lower instincts made him do something to Belle - something he couldn't remember, but she was visibly traumatised by - and that let the Beast through the gate._

_He growled and turned around. The courtiers shrunk away from him. He turned back to her and he saw her, huddled on the dais. He turned back to the court. Back to her. Back to the court. To her. To the court..._

That was the moment he usually woke, drenched with sweat, screaming at the top of his lungs, shaking like a leaf.

This night was no different, and he expected no difference as to what would follow.

He would spend the night in the library, pretending he was choosing a book he wanted to read in bed.

Then he would spend some time sitting in a soft chair next to his fireplace.

Then he would fall asleep with dawn, and then Lumiere would be coming in to light the candles and prepare his shaving set - he delighted in being able to shave his Master again.

And then he would be cranky and in pain for the whole day, despite the very best attempts of Lumiere, Mrs Potts, Cogsworth, whole army of servants and, finally, Belle, to cheer him up.

The only moments he felt somewhat safe (although definitely not relaxed) were in the evening, in the library, when Belle allowed him to sit close to her and read to her as she worked on some diagram of a mechanical construction, or - unexpectedly for what he thought he understood about her view of herself as a person - did some tiny embroidery.

They would eat a small evening meal, over which he sometimes tried to flirt with her and she side-stepped most of his attempts. He had already tried sitting across from her and by her side. Talking and not talking. Gossiping and discussing the tenants. Planning for next holiday - which was Christmas, making it twice as many plans as any other day. Nothing worked, as she shied away from any contact and refused to even look at him sometimes.

The only time they could share some common space was in the library, and he found it very hard to break the calm they achieved there with any unwanted conversation or, even worse, attempt at expanding their relationship.

He rested his forehead on his knees and shivered.

They would never be able to be as easy with each other as they used to. They would never be back to that easy camaraderie which he had treasured so.

She would never allow him to hold her again.

That was what the dream was all about, after all. Him trying to force her into contact. He shivered with revulsion.

He forced himself on her in that nightmare world. At least he never had to actually dream _that part_ , but what he could understand from the parts that he witnessed, it was bad enough.

He swallowed, his throat raw from screaming earlier that night, and with crying now.

The door to the library opened slowly and he heard a pair of feet making its way through the great room. If it was Lumiere, there will be a reasonable pair of light home shoes, barely more than slippers. If it was Cogsworth, there will be a pair of tough, well-made boots he insisted on wearing even indoors, positively revelling in the fact that he finally could stomp on things.

If it was Mrs Potts, he expected light slippers, especially in the middle of the night.

The feet were bare.

And the nightgown and the robe were thin, see-through affairs, so he could trace the shape of her ankles, even up to half-thigh, where the table obscured his view. His breath caught in his throat at that thought.

"Adam" she whispered and the feet came closer to where he was curled on the floor.

They were so tiny. Her shoes must have been half the size of his. He started wondering how she managed to grow so tall and never lose balance on these tiny feet.

They looked perfect to him, with tiny toes and pearly toenails. Small blue veins run just under her milky skin and there was nothing he desired more now than to be able to sit with her in front of a fireplace and touch every plane of these feet. And ankles, should she allow him.

She stood just in front of him, her tiny toes turned slightly inwards and curled, to minimise contact with the cold floor.

"Adam?" her voice shook slightly. "Adam, please..."

He couldn't get his voice to work.

He saw her raise one leg and rub the sole of her feet against the calf of the other.

And then, before he could move away, she was dragging the heavy chair he pulled in place behind him and she was there, just next to him, all tumbling curls and anxiety.

"Oh" she made a small sound and reached to him, but stopping before she could touch him.

"Belle" he whispered hoarsely.

"Adam."

She crawled a bit deeper under the table, going around him to see his face.

"Nightmares?"

He could only nod.

"Bad?"

He shrugged.

"The same every time" he whispered. _Not that I'll ever tell her the details._

She touched his hand with the tip of her finger and he shivered at the feeling of contact.

"You must be cold."

"Not really" he tried to say, but a huge shiver shook him and he had to admit he was no longer so resistant to cold as he used to be when he was furry. He uncurled from his place on the floor and sat across from her, legs crossed and head bowed under the table.

She suddenly blushed and turned her gaze away from him.

He glanced down and understanding dawned on him with an _Ah_ or rather an _Argh._

He was not actually wearing what proper gentlemen of his age and station would be wearing to bed, but rather the loose shirt and breeches he almost died in - and was turned human in.

Which meant that an indecent amount of bare male chest was now on display just a few inches from her face. And an indecent amount of bare male calf.

She was clad as properly as a modestly-cut long nightgown and a robe could cover her, but he was most definitely underdressed.

And she was shying away from him right now, trying to put some distance between their bodies.

"Belle" he caught her hand and raised it to his lips. She gasped at the touch and blushed even more. "I'm so sorry I worried you" he said quietly. "I didn't want to disturb anyone in the west wing - and I feel calmer here. It reminds me..." he trailed off.

She finally looked at him when he fell silent.

"Of?"

He kissed her long, thin fingers again.

"Of us. Of you. The books. The globe. All the things that I wanted to show you. Do you know we have a telescope here? Not a very good one, I'm afraid, but on a clear night, we could watch the stars and I could show you how to find planets."

She blinked.

"Also, the table is heavy and the chairs are sturdy enough to withstand some kicking" he admitted. "I think I should move a few of them to my chambers, just to make sure I have something I can hit without causing too much damage."

He kissed her fingers again, this time on the inside, and paying attention to each finger separately. He saw her inhale deeply, the rose colour of her cheeks now reaching the edge of her decolletage.

"Adam" she sighed. "I..."

"I'm sorry" he said again. "I'm probably making everyone in the castle miserable, but I can't stop it. I can't sleep, and when I _do_ fall asleep, I dream and I wake up" he blurted out. "It's hard to actually properly _live_ when I sleep two, maybe three hours a day. I can barely think sometimes. I can't understand what I'm reading, not to mention writing something."

He inhaled deeply and she blushed, turning away again.

"Belle?" he enquired. "Why are you here?"

She shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep either" she finally said. "I keep having the same dream, over and over again" she hugged herself. "I wake up crying and I can't fall asleep for hours. And thought I heard something from..." she blushed "from your room, so I went to check, but you weren't there. So I thought you may be hurt and I felt that _tug_ inside me that brought me here. I'm not sure how it works, but I almost always know where you are..."

He licked his suddenly dry lips.

"Maybe it's the curse" he pressed a kiss to her palm. "I always know where _you_ are."

A shiver went through her slim frame and that pushed him to make a decision.

"We need to get up from that floor before you catch your death" he moved a chair away and crawled out though that opening. "Come on, Belle. This is stone, it can't be good for you."

She slowly straightened, but did not follow him. She went to the other side of the table, by the chair she moved before.

They stood, facing each other across the table. He looked at her, bathed in moonlight from the left, white glow and shadows playing on her curves and limbs, at the same time hiding some of the most exciting details and hinting at her shape in a way that distracted him immensely.

"Belle" he had to cough, as the words failed him. "I... There is something we need to talk about."

She nodded slowly. They pushed the chairs back into place without speaking and walked up towards the fireplace. There was no fire there at that time of the night, but it was still warmer than the rest of the library, and there was a rug in front of it which separated them from the icy cold granite of the floor. He saw her features relax when she stepped on the thick wool and stood there for a few breaths, just wiggling her toes in the softness.

He checked the fireplace, but the fire had been properly put out in the evening, so there was no chance for even one glowing coal to help him warm the place up. On the side of the large settee he spotted two blankets rolled up, so he fetched these and shook out one of them, bringing it around her shoulders. He took the second one and wrapped it over himself.

Slowly, she sank to the wool-covered floor, wrapping her blanket closer around her. He sat in front of her, cross-legged, and sighed. Still the blanket wasn't covering her feet, but he heroically stopped himself from picking them up and warming them with his hands.

"What are your nightmares about?" he asked instead.

She blinked and turned her head to look at the empty fireplace.

"About you" she finally whispered.

He swallowed nervously. He really, really hoped she wasn't having the same dream - only from her perspective.

"What... what happens in it?"

She shrugged and made a vague gesture.

"You die. Everyone dies. The rose is gone, and we're all alone in the castle. And I'm trying to make you wake up, but there is nothing, and I beg you to come back, and..."

"I did come back" he felt the need to somehow dispel the obvious distress she was experiencing. "And I'm here."

"I _know_. But in the dream you never do... I sit there and cry and then there's only darkness, and I can't breathe. And then I wake up, and my head is pounding."

He wanted to reach out for her so badly. She looked rather forlorn, with her hair about her shoulders, her blanket barely reaching her knees and her worried, tired face.

"Why is this happening to us?" she asked in dull voice. "I thought with the curse broken we could live our life like normal people. Everyone is happy. Mrs Potts and Monsieur Jean are back together. Even Cogsworth stopped complaining. Lumiere and Plumette behave like lovesick teenagers. Why don't we get our happy ending?" she hid her face in the robe covering her knees.

"Because the curse wasn't properly broken" he whispered. "Because all it really did was to take away the illusion that was on them. I'm still the same, inside, apparently..." he swallowed with effort.

"Well, I hope you are" she mumbled. "It's tough enough to get accustomed to the fact that you changed outside. I'd go mad if you became someone else in the process."

He sat with his mouth hanging open.

"What?" was the only word he managed to utter.

"That" she said testily. "I keep expecting you to be... bigger. Taller. Do you know how hard it is? I never remember where to look if I want to see your eyes. I keep aiming..." she weaved her hand. "Like a head over your own. And I can't recognise you in the crowd just by your shape. And..."

"You're complaining about me looking more like a human?" he finally asked incredulously. "Really?"

She exploded from her blanket and suddenly she was nose to nose with him.

" _Really_ " she hissed. "We've had weeks together, when I could learn you, the old you, and I knew where I ended and where you began. I knew where your hand will be when I reach for it. I knew where to look for your damned smirk, or that you have to duck your head when you walk through smaller door. Or the way you sit, or the way you walk. I learnt it all, day by day. And now, suddenly, I can't. The voice is there, and I _know_ you're you, but my body remembers the old you and I'm so confused I sometimes can't think straight. I'm not saying the furry you was better. But I knew him better. And I can't learn _this you_ , because we almost never see each other, except in the evenings, and I'm so tired most of the time, I'm barely conscious then anyway. It takes all my strength to not fall asleep with my face in my soup, and I do it only because otherwise I would never have a chance to see you at all!"

Tears were rolling down her face and dripping on his shirt and he noticed how her face looked different seen with human eyes, then it looked when he saw it as the Beast. He noticed her smell - he retained this, and his sharpened hearing - and she smelled of soap and fresh laundry and salt. He became aware of the way she was breathing, which led to noticing that despite the modest cut of the nightgown, she _did_ have a bit of decolletage anyway. And finally he noticed that in order to be face to face with him, she didn't prop herself on the floor, but rather put her elegant, long-fingered hands on his thighs. Firm, muscled thighs, clad only in one layer of very worn dark blue linen. It was almost as if she was touching his naked skin.

He breathed in, which was an error, because he immediately became hyperaware of her, starting from the nuances of her smell, which, apart from soap, carried tones of flowers - lavender, he filed it away - a hint of leather and some additional, unclassified aroma that he could only label as "Belle".

All of which didn't make it any easier to answer her. But he tried to put together a sentence, with effort fighting down the need to crush her to his body and kiss her senseless.

"I am very busy undoing all the damage" he whispered. "The curse was lifted and the land is alive again, but it doesn't mean everything was fixed at once. Bridges fell. Buildings are crumbling. The amount of weeds alone is outstanding. And the roads are in disrepair. And winter is coming and we have to feed all these people..." he trailed off. "And I'm barely awake most of the time" he added finally. "And I'm afraid that if we were together more, it would end badly for both of us."

She leaned forward and looked him in the eyes.

 _I think she has no idea where her hands actually_ _ **are**_.

"So you've been busy" she uttered. "But why can't I come with you? Help you?"

He frowned.

"It's not a very good idea" he explained. "I'm still dealing with... myself. The old one is coming up from time to time and I'd much rather you weren't there for the..."

She smirked and moved back a little.

"The tantrums? The arguments? The furniture abuse?"

He leaned forward close enough to touch her nose.

"The uncontrollable beast" he said slowly, with just a tiniest hint of growl. He noticed her breath caught a bit at that. "Sometimes he just comes back, if not in corporeal form. I get these flashes of heat and I just can't stop myself from hitting something. Or tearing a pillow apart. At least usually I manage to drop a book I'm reading, because _that_ would be rather harder to explain to my favourite librarian. But he comes back, the worst, snarling, growling one. The one from half a year ago. The one that run you out of the castle."

She frowned.

"But you went after me then."

He nodded and shrugged.

"But it wasn't as _selfless_ as you may assume. He was - I was - basically a beast, looking to retain what was his. Only later I understood that I wanted you as a person, not as a possession. I needed your company, but only if given freely. And this is the me, now. Or, at least, mostly. The old one still... He's still there, inside. And sometimes he overwhelms me and..." he swallowed "and that is what my nightmares are about."

He carefully lifted her hands off his thighs and pulled her towards him.

"You're dreaming about changing back?" she asked in a small voice, looking up at his face.

"Actually" he chewed on it for a moment. "Actually, I thing I'm dreaming an allegory. My dreams are about a man who is so bad inside, the Beast gets out through the gate of the sins he commits. And, as usual in such cases, the ones closest to him are the ones to bear the brunt of his behaviour."

"But, you'd never..." she bit her lip.

"I already did, remember" he gestured around them. "Everyone paid, because she felt they were equally responsible and equally close to me. But if something happened now, she wouldn't make anyone else pay for my mistakes, as I'm a grownup now. However, whoever stays close to me, would be the first victim, due to the simple proximity."

"Adam" she straightened up, looking at him directly. " _He_ is you. It's you that _you_ grew out of. It's like... like terrible kind of normal human teen years. Normal youngsters are rather nasty, and they grow up. You had a _very_ bad case of being not very well brought up, not being very well taken care of, and, well, _extreme_ case of skin issues. And you were an awful bully, yes. But you were _sixteen_  when this started. It's been ten years since, and you are now an actual full adult now. You're _supposed_ to be the same person, just... better."

He steeled himself against her scent, against the feeling of her body on his, against the sweet melody of her voice, but nothing could help him when she caught his face with her hands commandingly and then threaded her long fingers in his hair.

"The fact that _he_ is sometimes coming back is as normal as me being afraid of spiders in my milk - I've been like this since I was eight. Sometimes I can drink my milk without thinking about them, but sometimes days pass before I can have my next cup. It's the eight year old Belle who once fished a fat, black spider from her cup of milk and made the most terrible noise I've ever made in my life. The same thing happens to you. The nasty brat you used to be back-then just... bubbles up."

"Belle" he whispered, eyes half closed, as he surrendered himself to the caress of her hands. "Belle, you're talking about you at eight... I'm talking about the bloody annoying me at _twenty-five and a half._ Half a year ago I was covered in fur and quite insensitive to anything except my own imagined tribulations. Half a year ago I was a snarling, ugly, angry creature whose only aim in life was to make everyone miserable."

"You were hurt, desperate and lonely creature nobody cared to help" she countered, still massaging his temples gently and again letting her fingers dive into his luscious mane. "And now you are still remembering that time, and sometimes you may be quite allowed to feel that you've been punished unduly" he was sitting there with his eyes closed, half in trance from her caresses, so the fact that he suddenly felt her body press into him and her breath warm his lips was a surprise which made him almost jump.

"Belle!" he moaned, trying at the same to pull her closer and push away, hot really knowing what to do except to _keep her off his lap_ where she almost, just a second ago, managed to place herself.

"Adam!" she cried in surprise and almost toppled over backwards.

He managed to catch her properly at the very last second, pulling her back close - but not _that_ close.

"Do you know what you were doing?" he whisper-growled into her ear and was rewarded by a shudder and quickened breathing which, he was quite sure, was _not_ from fear.

 _Interesting_.

"I was just trying to... comfort you a little" she explained, looking at him with wide open eyes. "What happened?"

He squirmed a bit to sit in a better position.

" _He_ happened. I was quite happy to let you continue until Christmas comes, but _he_ wanted way more" he brought her hand up to his lips. "He wanted much, much more. And yes, I know you've done this before. Yes, and I enjoyed it immensely. It was also back then when I actually _was_ furry, and so mostly touch wasn't so... direct."

"You mean you didn't feel it when I did it, then?" she frowned.

"I did" he sighed. "I did. It just didn't register that strongly. My skin was much thicker, the fur added a layer of... insulation. And my hands were, well. Paws. Not that sensitive. Now? Now you're touching bare skin. As in, _naked_. And that makes _him_ react so much stronger. Even when you touch me through my clothes, it is still much, much harder to resist than it used to be" he inhaled deeply and kissed her wrist. "You don't even know what kind of wanting you're awaking in _him_."

She looked at him with lips slightly parted, tracking his movements with fascination.

"So, what would _he_ have wanted?" she finally asked quietly.

" _Woman_ " he moaned. "I'm almost sure I shouldn't tell you this, and very certain I should not allow _him_ up for what he wanted."

"But, Adam..." she watched him as he slightly bit down on the pad of her index finger and laved it with the tip of his tongue, making goosebumps raise on her skin and a slight shiver to run down her spine. "What are you..."

"I'm letting _him_ have a small dose of what he wants. And giving you a taste of what may happen if I give in to _him_ " he explained with a very serious face. "He wants you. All of you. All the time. Guess why I'm trying to take long walks with the farmers, in this stinky mud. _He_ stays quiet then. If you were there, by my side, all that time, I wouldn't have strength to fight him. I must master him, before I can come to you as a full and controlled person. I can't allow some furry growly idiot to direct the way I live. I must conquer him!" he flexed his hand a few times and then hit the floor with his fist. "Sometimes I must hurt myself a bit, just to bring him down."

She caught his abused hand and brought it to her lips. Then, looking him straight in the eyes, she kissed each bruised knuckle, before turning it to the side and rubbing her cheek against the palm.

"Don't" she said simply. "Please don't. It hurts me to see you thus."

"If I don't, he sometimes wins" he growled. "You don't know how many times a night I cross the corridors between our chambers. I manage to rein him in most of the times, but often I have to resort to pain to manage him."

"Adam" she leaned closer " _don't."_

"So what am I supposed to do?" he growled through clenched teeth. "Go to you every time and let _him_ go wild? Take a cold bath? Jump into a snowbank? I can either hurt myself, just a bit, to manage _him_ or I could hurt you in such a way I could never forgive myself for it."

She traced his cheek with her fingertips.

"And how do you expect us to continue? Do you want to keep hurting yourself more and more, when you become less sensitive to the pain? Or risk damaging something? I _don't want_ you to just randomly hurt yourself for my sake. I don't want you to hurt yourself for any reason."

"But what can I do?" he mumbled into her hand, grazing her palm with his lips. "I don't see any better way of managing his appearances. Upsurges. Whatever they are."

She licked her lips slowly, thinking.

"And what if..." she started and thought more. "When does it happen?"

He shrugged.

"Any time I see you. And any time I think of you. Mostly, all the time."

She nodded.

"Uhm. And... what do you think would happen if we should be together for a whole day? All the time? Between people, outside, in cold, and in mud?"

He shrugged.

"I'm sure I would at some point die of embarrassment, due to my idiotic reactions to your presence. Or, from tripping over my own legs."

She nibbled on her lower lip.

"And would it be much worse than normally?"

He made an uncertain face.

"Probably not. Considering where I go, everyone is pretty much dirty up to their shoulders. But then so would you, if you came with me."

"Probably, yes" she smiled. "But it would have one definite new advantage."

"Which would be?"

"I'd have a chance to learn _you_ again" she reached again to cup his cheek. "I'd have to. We'd ride horses, I'm guessing, and walk a lot. And even falling into a ditch may be an important experience, if one looks at it properly."

He allowed his imagination to flow freely for a moment, envisioning them both on horseback, him handing her up and down the horse, hands firmly around her waist, in what would be very proper, very correct way.

"This may have its risks" he said, his throat clenched. "I'm not sure I can manage _him_ for that long, and it wouldn't do for the general populace to see their prince kidnap a young lady and run with her into the woods - or wherever the furry idiot decides to run."

"Well" she smiled slightly. "Or we could try to manage _him_ in the evenings."

He sat rock still, shocked by her suggestion of something so terrifyingly tempting.

"Belle" he growled. "You're playing with fire."

"Why shouldn't we?" she challenged him with resolution. "It can't be that dreadful. It feels quite..."

Suddenly she found herself lying on her back, with her prince propped on his arms over her, his face inches from hers, laboured breath making his chest strain against his shirt.

"Because I'm trying to be so damningly proper that nobody ever questions your reputation. What do you think would happen if we spent time on appeasing _him_? When would we cross the line? Where would we even _draw_ the line? Belle, I'm trying to ensure that you can still walk into the village with your head held high... people are already talking about us, but at least the servants of the castle can attest to the fact that nothing improper had ever happened between us. If we go any further, your reputation will be ruined and I don't want you to become an outcast in our own stupid little village, however stupid and little it is. It won't matter to me, or to anyone important to us, but it may still affect you daily."

She lay there, motionless, looking into his eyes - his wide, terrified eyes, and listened to his stumbling explanation, until he stopped and rested his forehead against hers.

"I don't want you to be unhappy because you tried to make me happier" he finally added. "I don't want you to compromise your integrity for my sake. My hand can take some more abuse, and in the meanwhile we'd be able to work out some proper solution for this..."

She reached for his hair, tumbling freely from his undone ponytail, and grabbed a fistful, then combed through it.

"What solution would that be?" she asked bitterly. "We can't be together, because people will talk, and I refuse to be separated from you, ever again. I want you" she tugged the hair slightly. "I want you, with all your sins and your merits, with the castle, the mud, the broken roads and the tall towers, with the furry one still showing his claws from time to time and with the non-furry you subduing him... or no. I want _you_. I'm not giving you up. How do you think we can resolve this?"

He smirked.

"You could marry me, I suppose."


	2. Day Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is so distracted by sleep deprivation she can barely function.  
> Adam decides to show his people that he is, in fact, just a human being again.  
> Servants are nasty. Plumette is helpful.  
> \----------  
> "But you are my prince, Adam" she answered equally softly. "I can't but look at you and my heart beats faster. I can't but even think of you and my soul yearns for you. And today, I saw you... Like a Greek god of old, like a Roman statue, I..."  
> \----------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was convinced I'd never be able to finish this. After cutting out several threads that threatened to run in a completely random direction, I hope this one looks reasonably structured and readable.

Belle was honestly trying. She attended every meeting, listened to all advice, followed all directions... but there were limits as to how much she could focus in her sleep-deprived state. She felt like she was letting everyone down, but her brain simply wasn't working correctly. She was either falling asleep at her desk, trying to gather her thoughts and make simple notes, staring into the distance or walking nervously down and up the corridors, looking for something to do, but finding no peace with any activity.

* * *

Mrs Potts was losing her patience. For a young lady so keen on books, Mademoiselle seemed to be surprisingly unable to learn anything about managing the estate. Yes, she wasn't sleeping very well, and neither was the Master (she checked that the servants posted in the corridor could swear that none of them left their respective bedchamber at night, except for an occasional trip to the library), but Mrs Potts expected her to be able to learn at least the basics.

Finally, she released her completely unfocused heroine and scheduled another meeting for the day after next.

"And try to get some sleep, Mademoiselle" she said in a warning tone. "You are no good to us if you're unconscious."

"I will" Belle sighed quietly.

* * *

"I'm afraid I'll never understand it all" Belle complained wearily. "I'm not sure anyone could, but here's Mrs Potts, who actually does. And she's trying to teach me, but it's not going to work. I can build a laundry machine, I can repair a clock, I can concoct an acid to cut through metal, but I can't remember all of the details of how a house is run. The dependencies between people, the various types of servants, the responsibilities..."

Plumette removed the pins which held Belle's hair up and attacked it with a brush.

"Ah, she forgets how long it took her to understand the workings of a big household. And she was living here, starting as a downstairs maid! She had all the time in the world to just soak it all in, to live in it directly. She knows the house from cellars to rafters because, at some point, she probably cleaned every surface there. So don't you worry" she squeezed Belle's shoulder affectionately. "You will learn, as much as you need. Maybe it would be easier if you started with something you can read? Like a housekeeper's almanack?"

Belle perked up - sleepily - when she heard that.

"That would help, I guess -" she yawned. "- and I could work on it here, where it's a bit cooler than in the housekeeper's rooms by the kitchen. Mrs Potts seems to be impervious to the heat and I'm almost asleep there. Or completely distracted by the temperature itself."

Plumette started to remove Belle's outer dress, finally leaving her in the massive petticoats and the corset.

"It doesn't help that one thinks mostly about undressing in such a heat" Plumette provided with self-deprecation. "And when one thinks about undressing, the thoughts immediately go to..." she smiled lightly.

Belle's cheeks coloured.

"Yes" she whispered. "And more, so much more."

Plumette drew the corset open and helped Belle to step out of the voluminous skirts.

"Of course. I have had the same problem" Plumette grimaced. "Since we were turned back, I barely had time for my dearest Jean-Pierre, and he for me. We couldn't do much in our cursed bodies - unlike some - and I think I'll never be able to stand the stench of burning feathers" she shivered. "And now, we barely have time for a kiss in the hallway when he runs from the Master to the kitchens, from there to the cellar, then to the laundry room... Sometimes we catch each other in the laundry room, yes" she blushed. "But it's not the best place. And by the end of the day, when we could probably catch a bit of... you know, then he's so tired he falls asleep. While I'm getting _undressed_ " she added with a sigh.

“He must really be tired” Belle half-smiled. “If he falls asleep waiting for _you_ to undress.”

“Ex-actly” Plumette braided Belle’s hair loosely and fastened it with a bit of ribbon. “And it’s not like I’m any less tired than him, mind you. But he’s so… He tries so much. He sees the Master sitting over the papers long into the night, and he feels responsible. He thinks the Prince tries to make up for his old sins, and as he thinks he took part in them…” she shrugged. “Now, your bath is drawn and waiting. Call me when you need me to help you out.”

Belle stopped Plumette’s quick movements, pressing her to sit down.

“I won’t” she said simply. “I know that the grand houses have their demands, but you, my friend, go to your room and be there before Lumiere decides he can leave Adam for the evening. Tomorrow, I will speak with Adam and see what we can do about your evenings at least. I know that during the day you must accompany me in most nonsensical manner, but I’m a grown woman, quite capable of bathing myself since I was five. I can also survive washing my hair, drying my hair and dressing for bed by myself. You don’t need to assist me in all this. Actually, the only thing I need help with in the evening is the corset, so the moment you get this blasted contraption off me, your own evening may begin."

Plumette blushed and started ordering the powder boxes on the dresser nervously.

"But... but what will the other servants say?" she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "Lady's maid is supposed to be with her mistress all the time, until dismissed..."

"So I'm dismissing you for the night" Bella patted her hand. "And you know that I wake with the sunrise on my own anyway, and you definitely don't have to be here before I get up. I will manage morning toilette quite happily on my own, and I can actually dress myself reasonably for breakfast without bothering you."

"But, but, your hair!"

Bella snorted.

"I will braid it and wear it down. I won't powder it anyway, and making a coiffure for petit-dejeuner only is a bit too much. Also, _Adam_ likes my natural hair just as it is. If we have guests at some point, we'd probably have to change this" she took a shivery breath. "Oh, dear. I managed to push it out of my mind just for half a day, but..." she laid her forehead on the cool surface of the dressing table and rolled it a bit to bring the heat down. "Adam says... We may expect some guests, quite soon."

Plumette straightened in expectation.

"We'd have to prepare some dresses then" she chirped. "And shoes, dear me. You have just two pairs of slippers, and it's definitely not enough in case of a ball!"

Belle groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"There are moments" she mumbled "when I wish this castle was still cursed."

"But, Belle!" Plumette made a scandalised face.

"No, sorry" Belle moaned. "I meant... What I... I don't wish you were still objects. It felt funny anyway, not knowing which chair was alive and which was normal wood. I never knew if I'm supposed to prop my feet on something, or if I'm literally putting them on someone's bent back. I meant... we were here, alone, but nobody bothered us..."

"After ten years it got pretty boring, I must say. Your father and you were first visitors ever in this place. We were _bored_ out of our minds, really."

Belle sighed gustily.

"I know. But I still miss the isolation that the curse provided. Now, Adam is speaking of his family suddenly, almost _magically_ starting to recall that he, in fact, existed. And they want to visit. And they will demand an explanation. And then they will wonder at me, and at me staying here, and at my parentage and..."

"Ma cherie" Plumette hugged her. "They may wonder and demand and visit, but that will not change his heart."

"His heart not" Belle sounded slightly hollow. "But what about his mind? He will understand at some point that I'm just a daughter of a man who can, in a pinch, build a cuckoo clock or paint a maritime landscape, but who is definitely not high enough in station..."

"Phish" Plumette pressed her fingers to Belle's lips. "Yes, you are a commoner. And yes, our Prince is..." she coughed. "Well, a Prince. However much of a cad he was, he is still of blood. But he is also a grownup, as we well know, he knows himself and you and he would never betray you."

Belle rubbed her face roughly.

"Maybe not. But if they pester him enough..."

"Then we'll intervene" Plumette offered quietly. "We'll make sure nothing comes between the two of you. You belong with him and he belongs with you. Nothing and nobody can separate you. We won't allow it. And even if we did, I'd be guessing the sorceress would have something to say on that topic."

"We already have gossip, almost-uprising and a suspicious death on our hands. There are people out there that still remember Adam from before and think this is just a continuation of his old ways. They probably already think the worst of me" Belle shivered. "If you try protecting us too much, you may end up tarred with the same brush."

"Ma cherie" Plumette kissed her cheek affectionately. "At least we'd be in good company."

"Two hundred years ago we could have both been burned at the stake" Belle hugged the maid tightly.

"Well, some of us _are_ the great-granddaughters of the witches they didn't manage to burn" Plumette winked. "And now, ma cherie, you go take your bath - just no falling asleep! - and be a good girl and go to bed early. Tomorrow I'll bring you your breakfast here, so you can start the day slowly. And..." she smiled. "I'll see if I can surprise Jean-Pierre today _before_ he collapses on the bed."

"Go" Belle pushed her to the door. "And take time to wash up, too. You've been sitting with me in that kitchen heat way too long and we both smell like frying and cooking. Go, arrange his room, use that perfume he likes - that orange one - and ambush him. Ah, and get some of the cream puffs from the pantry. If Mrs Potts asks, tell her it’s on me. If it turns out he also forgets to eat, you will need something to keep his strength _up_."

Plumette blushed deeply, pecked her Mistress' cheek again and was out of the door in seconds.

* * *

Jean-Pierre was, in fact, ambushed and pleasantly surprised. And he didn't fall asleep until Plumette finally got what she wanted.

* * *

Belle was up and about before sunrise. She tried, really hard, to stay in bed for the promised breakfast, but she found herself quite unable to relax, despite the soft mattress and fluffy pillows. Actually, sometimes it was easier for her to fall asleep in the window seat, with the hard cushions and single flat pillow there, but it wasn't seemly. Also, it was much colder.

Still, even her wonderful bed, with the blankets and silken sheets and pillows couldn't entice her to stay put. Especially considering the dreams she had in it just a moment before. She shuddered, pulling a soft woollen blanket more firmly about herself and sitting on the window, looking outside. The dream wasn't new in any significant manner - it was just like all others, with death, blackness and sorrow - except for the ending. She grimaced, trying to relax her jaw a bit from the stressed, locked position. The way she had had to grind her teeth in order not to cry out to him at the end of the dream left her hurting in the morning. She woke up still stiff and with heart beating wildly, ready to burst.

Here, by the window, she could see the sun rising over the now-living grounds. Despite slight early-autumn nip in the air, some men were already gathering in the yard, starting the day's work in the gardens and fields. They had to collect as much as possible before the winter, so everyone, including elderly, children even as young as five and less-capable were paid handsomely if they only accepted the task of collecting the vegetables, grain and fruit.

As the morning work progressed, some men stripped off their shirts, apparently warm enough in the fresh sun and with the amount of exercise which was required to prepare the carts, horses, donkeys and mules. Some were rather thin and young-looking, but some sported bulging muscle, wide torsos and an indecent amount of chest hair.

Indecent, that is, if someone wasn't used to the Beast, covered with fur all over.

_I wonder what Adam hides under these well-fitted shirts_.

She blushed at her own thoughts, but they were there, out and she couldn't possibly deny the fact that she was terribly _curious_ as to what her Beast looked like now, as a human. She had managed to get a decent look at his hairy form when she was nursing him back to health after the fight with the wolves, but Adam dressed fully, correctly and, unless surprised in the library, always had a cravat tightly knotted.

"Nice view, isn't it?" Plumette's whisper by her ear made Belle jump.

"I, well, I...!"

"No worries, ma cherie. Your secret is safe with me" her maid smiled and winked. "But, if you wish for something even more... exciting, Jean-Pierre managed to stay awake long enough to tell me that the upper servants will be joining the workers today, as the weather-witch predicts the weather will turn any time now."

Belle's eyes widened.

"They will all...?"

"Well, except for Cogsworth, maybe. And a few older ones. But..." Plumette giggled quietly. "It seems _Adam_ will be joining them, too."

Belle felt herself growing quite warm and, she guessed from Plumettes wide smile, very, very red.

"Oh, my."

"He is, to quote my darling Jean-Pierre, going to show everyone he is just a human like all of them, and capable of doing honest work like the next man. He is a skilled driver, after all, so he will be probably riding one of the bigger waggons out to the fields. Jean-Pierre said he'd rather stay away from the horses himself, so he will be loading. That means we have a high chance of seeing both of them, well" Plumette leaned closer. "Quite in deshabille."

Belle felt herself grow warm and sat for a moment with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, completely immobile, trying to calm down quietly.

As Plumette waited for Belle to regain her breath, they watched the scene below change - the men were taking a short respite, while the women came out to them to dole out drinks and some kind of pies. They saw, from their high window, that there were definitive pairs taking the time off the loading to flirt a little, even if in the middle of a sweaty, work-weary crowd.

"Ou" Belle's lips formed the small sound independently of her mind.

"Ma Princesse" Plumette whispered softly. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you are thinking what I'm thinking, my friend, then you have one wicked mind" Belle answered, breathlessly. "But as what I am considering is convincing Mrs Potts to let us join the servants at this task, then I do, too. The very thought of their faces when they see us..."

"We'll have to pick a proper outfit for you to do this" Plumette swallowed at the sight of the few upper servants who had, apparently, sweethearts among the men working, taking their chance at even that minute amount of intimacy. "Oh, my."

There was a new group joining the men helping with loading.

"Oh, my" Belle echoed, fanning herself.

There were all the upper male servants in that group, plus Lumiere. And Adam. He stood at least half a head taller than the others, his arms thick with muscle, his thin white shirt straining as he reached back to tie his hair with a piece of ribbon. He said something to Lumiere, who shook his head and laughingly stepped away, covering his head with both hands. Adam punched him lightly on the shoulder and stretched his arms, cracking his fingers and rolling his neck.

In minutes, the first big waggon was brought in, two rather dauntingly big horses hitched to it. Adam was the first to approach them, patting their backs and checking the reins and other pieces of the harness. Finally, after throwing some remark at Lumiere, he put on a wide-brimmed hat, climbed the waggon, standing at the front of it on his long, long legs and shook the reins, prompting the horses to start walking. Both women watched in fascination - together with the small crowd by the barns - as he expertly directed the waggon down the lane and towards the fields.

"Whew" Belle gasped when he disappeared behind the line of the forest that led to next section of the property. "I mean... that was..."

Plumette giggled and nodded, now looking down at the group, bringing in the second team of horses and another waggon. Lumiere was asked something and apparently gave an appreciated answer, as all the men and some of the women laughed uproariously.

"Jean-Pierre isn't fond of the horses" Plumette explained. "He'd rather stay away from the whole affair, but he promised the Prince he would do his share. They are all to join the workers for as long as the weather allows, so we have to be prepared for a daily dose of very tired, very dirty and probably slightly smelly men. On the other hand, the exertion may make them much easier to deal with. I hope to convince Jean-Pierre to go to sleep early today. Or, at least, to _retire_ early.”

Belle blushed again and looked down at her clasped hands.

“You, ma princesse, of course, can’t do the same” Plumette hugged her lightly. “But you can still exert some level of control over your _young man_ , should you present it to him in the right way, you know. He will listen to the sweet voice of reason telling him to stop overworking himself if you back it up with a promise of appropriate… reward.”

“Plumette!” Belle’s eyes widened as she blushed, scandalised. “What kind of reward would I…”

“You do know he loves your voice” Plumette pulled Belle to her feet. “Promise to read to him. Find something appropriately interesting, keep him in the library until he’s unable to go back to his desk. I will even set up a supper for the two of you there, cherie.”

“And you and Lumiere…”

“Oh, we will find some way to entertain ourselves, don’t worry about us” Plumette winked again. “Just make sure to keep the Prince away from his study for the evening. He should be much more susceptible to your wishes after the day spent on simple physical exertion.”

Belle sighed.

"So, what now?" she asked, looking out of the window, trying to track the people milling on distant fields.

“Now we dress” Plumette threw the wardrobe door open. “Question is, what to use to make the right impression!”

Belle tapped her foot for a moment, but nothing of the opulent offer seemed fitting.

“What I _would_ need is a peasant dress” she said slowly. “And I know exactly which one.”

“And that would be?”

“My old dress. The blue one. It was an actual _peasant_ dress - not like the overblown sweet creations that many ladies wear, trying to make them ‘countrified’, but an _actual_ working dress. I could go shopping in it, or ride a horse, or run… And it doesn’t require a corset, just good stays.”

“Well…” the maid pursed her lips. “I think Madame might have saved it. She should have, actually. Give me just a moment and I’ll check with her.”

* * *

His shoulders burned with the exertion of reining in a pair of heavy, stubborn horses. The sun had long risen high enough for all men to discard their shirts, so he did the same, feeling relief at the freedom it provided. Even long blades of hay poking the skin of his back didn’t force him to get dressed again - it was much better than working with the piece of linen sticking to him everywhere.

By the fourth return, he was getting quite well acquainted with the pair he had been assigned and had managed to learn their little quirks. They definitely liked to bite each other, they were vicious whenever left alone for too long, they hated standing still during loading, they kicked, they shoved and they were voracious apple eaters. Including trying to devour the hand holding the apple, it seemed.

As the sun moved towards the west, his muscles were giving him more and more signals of slight overuse, but he saw it as his duty to carry on as long as all the men, including taking a break for a meal only when they gave the signal for everyone to turn towards the barn. Some hitched a ride on his partially-filled waggon and killed the time by pulling out blades of grass and exchanging remarks about their women. He listened, involuntarily, but at least part of the descriptions made him terribly uncomfortable.

“And she is the sweetest little lady I’ve kissed” one of the farmhands gushed. “If only her father was less suspicious, I could have had her already, but the old man is like a miser with his last coin - sees thieves everywhere.”

“I bet she doesn’t know how to serve a man as well as my Agnes” another interrupted with a snort. “This is a woman who knows her place in the world and knows how to ensure she keeps it.”

“Yeah, on her knees, between her man’s legs!”

Adam’s face burned hotly, but he focused on the horses he had to convince to turn towards the house. He used to be a spoilt, immoral and even rakish individual, but to _speak_ about their actual wifes in such a manner…! A cad, he could have been called. He had been quite correctly accused of being selfish and uncaring. But he had never had a person so dedicated to him alone as Belle was, and trying to compare what these men were saying to what he felt about Belle was simply impossible. They must have hated their women, apparently.

“Suzette is quite skilled in _all_ her duties” another man chuckled. “But that all depends on the training they are given. If a man doesn’t exert himself to show his woman what he expects, she will do whatever she wishes. And what they do wish is usually rather stupid, so there.”

Belle was smart, intelligent and wanted only good for him and for her. He would never in his life disparage her in such words - or thoughts. He pressed his lips into a thin line and urged the horses to walk faster.

“And what if she doesn’t learn?” a tired voice from the end of the waggon asked querulously. “My Ivonne can’t just understand the way I want her to…”

_Did these men never talk to their wives? What happened to simply discussing important aspects of their lives?_

“There is a great many ways one can teach one’s wife to behave” the previous man lowered his voice. “But an application of a cane and a well-aimed smack to the bottom does wonders for an unruly woman. A time with no food will also improve their personalities.”

_Mon Dieu._

“If I tried _that_ , Ivonne would simply leave me!”

A wave of rough laughter rose over the waggon, as it rumbled down the lane, towards the barn. Adam shivered with revulsion, trying to ignore the words that came next.

“Put a bun in her oven, she will be too busy to run away. And in two or three years she will change her mind if you just keep her breeding all the time.”

Adam squeezed his eyes shut in mortification, but had to open them immediately as they neared the outbuildings. There was already a crowd of servants milling there, some of the barn workers eating, in what looked to be a very mixed company. He saw Lumiere, looking sweaty and somewhat dirtier than he would have ever appeared in public, having his cup refilled by Plumette, clad in… well, whatever it was, it had never been worn by the head maid before. It was still off-white, as per her usual fashion, but the cut of the dress was definitely not suited to the palace.

He reined in the horses as they approached the barn, letting his passengers off to get their meals, then jumped off himself. Tying up the horses and providing them with bags of feed was a matter of minutes and he could finally pull some water from the well and pour it over his sun-tanned face and back. Drying himself off with his shirt, he walked, among the other men, towards the barn, counting quietly on Mrs Potts not forgetting about him and having a bite to eat ready for him.

A slim figure in blue stepped in front of him and he froze.

“Belle” he whispered, his hand still, semi-automatically, wiping his face dry with his shirt.

“Mon Prince” she looked aside, demurely. “I… I thought you would like to eat something as the others do, so…” she raised her basket, still not looking up at him.

He liberated the hefty wicker container from her but kept a hold on her hand as she tried to turn away.

“Come sit with me, Belle” he swallowed, looking around the yard, tracking the men he had brought in, meeting their wives - or women, or whoever they were to the men. “I… I’d much rather not eat alone.”

She smiled weakly and followed him, but kept her gaze steadfastly to the side as they walked the few steps to one of the logs serving as impromptu benches. He sat at the end, separated from other with some bit of farm machinery and set the basket on the ground. Still, Belle remained standing, looking away from him and silent.

He actually grew rather anxious, seeing her like this, so he tried pulling her closer, to sit on the same log as he did. Still, she resisted slightly and her blush rose even further.

* * *

Dear, indispensable Plumette had actually found the dress. It had been hidden by Madame in one if the storage rooms, deemed unworthy of the future princess, but she finally gave up its location upon hearing Plumette’s plan of altering it for the specific purpose of distracting the Prince from his attempts at working himself into an early grave. She even provided suggestions for changes that could be easier to apply than ones that Belle and Plumette had worked out, letting them finish the whole transformation before the time for the fieldworkers’ afternoon break.

Belle felt slightly too exposed with the lowered cut and the very gauzy underdress, and the way Plumette managed to lace her mid-length stays, which made them almost as effective as a corset in bringing her decolletage into full view.

“If he decides to work for the whole evening after _that_ , I will deem him hopeless” Plumette proclaimed. “Now, I will meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes, cherie, I need to change, too.”

“Do you need help?” Belle ventured cautiously. “If you need me to tighten your stays, or, or…”

“Thank you, but I had to learn to do _that_ myself, long ago. I can even lace myself in full corset without any help but that of a hook in my wall.”

“A hook…?”

“Terribly useful. I catch the laces on it to tighten the corset and then I can lace them easily, once properly drawn. The only limit is the size of my room - if the laces were any longer, I'd need to wind them around a second hook, to make sure I can pull them correctly.”

* * *

The kitchen was full of noisy servants and Mrs Potts seemed to be at the end of her wits, trying to get all of them out of her domain. She gladly accepted Plumette's offer of help with herding the excited women out of the chamber and into the yard, as they seemed to be intent on disrupting the daily routine quite thoroughly.

“Mademoiselle! What are you wearing!? Mon Dieu, it's… You can't go out in this dress!”

The kitchen fell silent at Mrs Pott’s pronouncement and suddenly all eyes were on Belle. All servants stared, wide-eyed, at their future mistress, standing amongst them, red-faced, her blue dress hitched up to her belt, showing white underdress and even a tiny bit of a leg. Some turned their faces and covered their smiles with rough hands.

“I… I can, and I will, Mrs Potts” Belle said, her voice slightly shaky. “If my lord is out there, with other men, working like everyone on the estates, the least he can expect is that I bring him his food.”

Mrs Potts clasped her hands nervously.

“But, my dear girl, you simply can't…! There will be… There will be _men_ there, you see!”

Belle managed not to smile, despite her nerves.

“I assumed there might be some of these, yes. At least one, I hope.”

Mrs Potts went an interesting shade of pink.

“But, Belle!” she finally exclaimed. “They will be naked!”

Quiet giggles amongst the younger set of maids were quelled by the housekeeper's gaze.

“I hope that not completely” Belle said with a forced calmness. “That would be public indecency and I hope we don't get _that_ in the palace or on the grounds, however entertaining that might be for some.”

“Belle!”

“Mrs Potts. I will go out there, in this dress, to feed our prince. This is the dress he saw me in on my first day here. It seems everyone has to be reminded, from time to time, that I'm not, in fact, a born aristocrat and that my background is just as humble as it can be. You also have to remember that I'm not some wilting flower or protected debutante. Now, please, do give me the basket you have prepared for Adam and let me join the others, like he joined the field workers.”

Outwardly perfectly calm and exuding absolute certainty, Belle joined Plumette at the head of the group that marched towards the barn scant minutes later.

“She really didn't like this idea, ma cherie” Plumette murmured. “We'll have to make peace with her after that. Let's just hope it works…”

* * *

Belle kept her poise despite the throngs of half-naked men, dripping with their manliness, presenting sweat-shining musculature, all around them. Plumette located Lumiere and set to the task of plying him with food and wine, while Belle walked slowly on, searching for Adam's familiar tall form.

When she finally found it, she stood in her spot, rooted firmly to the ground.

He was naked.

Well, half-naked. But still.

His wide shoulders, finally out of shirts and jackets, were covered simply with muscle. Very appropriate amount of it. Belle’s hands trembled so much she had to grip her basket much tighter as she watched him move, various parts of him flexing in a fascinating manner. He turned towards the crowd, still partly wet, using his shirt as a makeshift towel, droplets of water making his sculpted chest shine in the golden light of the afternoon sun. His hair in disarray, combed back with impatient hands, gave him the look of a wild man. Said look made Belle go just a tiny bit weak in the knees.

_Dear God, how am I supposed to talk to him now?!_

She breathed deeply, squeezed her eyes shut and counted to five. Squaring her shoulders, she walked to him, trying to avoid looking directly at the _very_ distracting expanse of his… everything.

_No, seeing the Beast did not prepare me for_ _ **that**_.

* * *

And now he was insisting that she should sit with him, which would bring her face level with his _chest_ and she was already having trouble focusing. Finally, she remembered the actual reason - one of them - for coming here and reached for the basket.

“Adam” she managed to choke out, handing him the white bundle. “Please.”

He took it, by pure reflex, but still sat there, looking at her with apprehension.

“Belle…?”

“ _Adam!_ ” she gestured towards the bundle, so he shook it out impatiently. For a heartbeat, he looked at a fine linen shirt with surprise, but immediately his eyes widened and he pulled the garment on in haste.

“I'm so sorry, my dear” he whispered, gathering her to his body urgently. “I've been working like this for half a day already, and I didn't think about it! My lovely Belle” he pulled one of her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm. “I'm so sorry I've caused you discomfort, and that only a few days after lecturing you so sternly…”

“Shhh” standing up, she had to barely lean lower to kiss his forehead. “All is fine. And now I can actually look at you properly without being thoroughly distracted by…” she made a vague gesture. “ _That_.”

* * *

He could have slapped himself. He had just admonished her a scant three or four days earlier about the effect she had on him, how her touch on his skin burned like a live fire every time they came close. And now he had tried to make her sit with him _half-naked_ just in front of her. Even worse, _he_ kept touching _her_. When _she_ tried to shy away. Had he been more stubborn, he would have probably made her cry.

_Am I an idiot, or just a bit oblivious?_

He finally looked up at her lovely, worried face, her wide eyes looking at him anxiously.

"I'm so sorry" he said earnestly, more than happy for the whole day of pure physical effort he had endured. It seemed to have quietened the furry one very nicely, and he could hope for a quiet moment with his beloved girl without the _other's_ interference. "I should have paid more attention, but I was so... I needed to make sure you were well. I didn't notice, really. I will try to be more... civilised" he smiled uncertainly.

She leaned in, holding his face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"Now, eat" she whispered. "At least three more hours of work before you, until sunset. You need to keep your strength if you want to prove to your subjects that you're just another working man, you know. Mrs Potts made this basket especially for you."

"Will you..." he looked at the log with distaste. "This is not a very good place to sit, actually."

"You forget what I'm wearing" she calmly sat next to him, on the rough-barked section of the log. "This is my actual working dress. It can withstand much more abuse than that."

"Was it on purpose?" he asked as he reached into the basket.

"The dress? Of course. You" she poked his arm lightly "went out as a common working man. I am here, waiting for you, like a common woman. Like a peasant I actually am" she smiled, but he still frowned.

"But... you said something you never said before" he took an apple from the basket and offered it to her.

She took it, but sat there, watching it with concentration, trying to understand what he meant.

"You said 'mon prince', love" he whispered and pushed her chin a bit up. "You never did it until today. You always addressed me by my name, but never by my title. This is what servants do."

"But you are _my prince_ , Adam" she answered equally softly. "I can't but look at you and my heart beats faster. I can't but even think of you and my soul yearns for you. And today, I saw you... Like a Greek god of old, like a Roman statue, I..."

He was quick to silence her, sealing her lips with his, tasting slight saltiness of her tears, a tart-sweet juice of an apple - she had probably eaten one just before he arrived - and something that was so uniquely Belle that he couldn't identify it clearly. It was so akin to the smell that _he_ knew as Belle's that is was a bit of an eerie feeling of mixed senses of him and _him_. He focused on her, kissing her with intent. She was so delightfully soft and lovely, her narrow fingers tangling in his wild mane, pulling him closer, hanging onto him for dear life.

When they parted, her eyes were half empty, as if most of her conscious thought left her with the kiss. She blinked, focusing again.

"You're my goddess" he whispered hotly, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. "You're the lady of my heart, the owner of my soul. You carry my whole happiness in your hands. You're my princess, my little queen."

"Well, then" she smiled languidly. "I hope you will like what the queen requests."

He couldn't stop the smile widening his lips.

"First, you will eat and drink. Because I need you not to waste away in that field. Second, you will come back from the field in good time an wash away the horse scent. However much I love _you_ , I'm not that fond of your two aggressive companions" she nodded to where his pair had just managed to get rid of feed bags and start a fight. "Third, you will join me for a supper. In the library. And you will stay with me, in the library, until I decide we can leave."

He blinked, surprised. Still, he managed to utter "Whatever you wish, my love" and pull the basket closer between them. "Eat, be back, wash, join you in the library. I think I can manage _that_."

"I hope so. Now, sit with your back to me and eat. I will deal with your hair. You look like a scarecrow."

He turned slightly, a pie in his hand, and felt something soft and slightly bristly going through his hair.

"This is my hairbrush" she explained. "I thought you may want to get rid of this hay you managed to collect."

"That is very... Belle?"

"Hm?" she pulled the brush again through his hair.

"How did you know I would need a new shirt?"

The silence from behind made him turn to look at her. She was absolutely adorably pink, all over.

"I didn't" she said in a tiny voice.

"So why did you bring one?"

She clasped her hands and avoided his eyes, looking down at her lap.

"I..." she shrugged and swallowed. "I was planning to give you this one and suggest you change into it, as it was fresh. I wanted... I wished to see..."

She was burning red before he understood.

"You wanted to talk me into changing my shirt, because you wanted to, to- _ogle_ me?" he asked, dumbfounded.

"And I got much more than I wished for" she added, squirming in embarrassment. "I wasn't planning on it affecting me that much!"

"Oh, _ma princesse_ " he rumbled in _his_ voice. "Really, you have no idea what _you_ do to _me_."

Well, maybe she had, he concluded as her eyes glazed over just a bit and she looked up at him with her lovely, rosy mouth opened in a slight pant. He couldn't say 'no' to such an obvious invitation, kissing her yet again, until he felt _him_ waking up. She was flushed and looked utterly, completely kissable. He longed for the day when he would be able to look at her face, just like this, against a snowy pillow of his bed, and not have to leave her - or himself - in that blasted half-state of unfulfilment.

"Eat" she whispered, still watching him in awe. "Come back. And there will be a reward waiting for you."

"And what could my sweet fiancee be preparing for me?" he cupped her cheek in his large, warm palm.

"Fiancee?" her voice went slightly up and broke on the last vowel. "I don't know. Do you have one, my liege?"

He frowned.

"I... Belle?"

She clasped her hands together and looked down yet again. He started to understand this movement as a tell of 'I can't really speak about it'. It used to stump him, but once he learnt the meaning behind it, it became much easier - usually, it was something she really _wanted_ to speak about but for some reason couldn't, despite being his brave, wise Belle. Which probably meant it was something either painful or something she was afraid to mention in order not to embarrass herself. Or him.

He tracked back the last few sentences.

_Fiancee. She..._

He looked down at her clasped hands.

Bare, clasped hands.

_Mon Dieu_.

A ring. He had never given her the ring. And he didn't have it on him because he chose the most worn trousers and no jacket due to the mild weather. Also, he never thought he would have a chance to do that on this particular day. And he had no jackets that would have fit the activity planned...

He shook his head. Jackets were not important. Belle was.

_But no. It wasn't about the ring. If it was just a piece of metal, she would have laughed at me for forgetting about it and teased me. I must have missed something else. Well, the proposal wasn't exactly the epitome of romance..._

_Merde._

She was shaking. Not with laughter, that much he knew. She was _afraid_. The _other_ could smell it in the air around her. Why was she afraid? His first reflex was to pull her closer and not let anything in the world touch her, but he restrained himself. She wasn't afraid of anything out there, she was afraid she had offended him by mentioning the ring.

_What now? I don't have the bloody ring!_

_She won't care. She doesn't want the stupid ring. She wants you to_ _ **say**_ _it once. She wants you to_ **ask** _her. Properly. Not in the heat of the moment._

Before he knew, he was sliding down onto the grass, kneeling in front of her slender feet.

"Belle?" he caught her hands in his and bowed his head to kiss every white knuckle. "Will you... will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

He froze, listening to her stuttering breaths.

Then, finally, a small pressure of her lips on his hair freed him from that paralysis.

"I will" she whispered hoarsely. "I will, _mon prince_. Whatever you wish and desire. It is yours. You just had to ask, finally, you stubborn, overconfident man."

He looked up at her and they stayed like this for uncounted minutes, her fingers combing through his thick mane, neither of them saying anything until the steward called the workers back to their jobs.

* * *

The library was warm and devoid of life, except for Belle's prone form on one of the settees, covered with a plush blanket. He managed to close the heavy door quietly, sending Lumiere and Plumette off for the night, despite their attempts at chaperoning the evening for at least a bit.

"Belle?" he crouched next to the low, soft, pillow-laden sofa. "Is everything well?"

She frowned, blinked and then was up in a flash.

"Did I sleep through the rest of the day?" she asked, anxiously. "I just sat here with a book for a moment..."

"You probably did. Do you remember Plumette setting the supper?"

She only shook her head.

"Then you've slept at least as long as it took her to do it. Now, do you wish to eat, or would you rather retire to your room and we could continue this tomorrow?"

"No" she stood up a bit unsteadily. "I need to eat something, I think. I may have forgotten to eat in the excitement of the day."

_But at least you've slept, which is an improvement._

"Come, then. I don't know how she managed it, but the dishes are still warm. I suppose a bit of soup could do you good."

The plates were set across the table, but at the shorter end, so they could reach over their dishes and touch hands when they wished to. Which they did, quite often.

Belle ate sparingly, but he felt he had a lot to replenish after a long day of hard work - including some unloading of carts at the end, lugging sacks of potatoes into the cellar and finally unhitching the horses. Even the biggest, meanest ones were visibly tired at the end of the day, allowing him to lead two at the time into the stable and letting themselves be cared for by the grooms.

He had run two steps at a time to his room - having asked Mrs Potts to send up at least a pail of hot water. When he voiced this, she had looked at him in disdain, sniffed delicately and pronounced him to be in need of at least four pails of hot water, should he wish to be presentable for 'young Belle'. He did wish so, and hence his lateness to the supper Belle had organised.

He watched as she took tiny sips of watered wine and ate tiny bites of everything. This made him uncomfortable, just a bit. Belle had always had a hearty appetite, eating proper big bowls of soup, drinking tea with cream, sometimes sneaking in a piece of croissant with butter and jam out of the kitchen. Now, slightly pale and still worried, she ate like a bird. A small bird.

He declared himself full and observed her pushing away her plate with alacrity. His disquiet with the way she ate rose a few notches.

But she looked at him and smiled, her full, eye-widening smile, and led him towards the fireplace, sitting down on one of the fur rugs. He sank to the floor next to her but found himself pulled down, his head finding an appropriate pillow in her lap.

"Now, you will rest" she said in her 'queen' voice. "And I will read to you. Nobody will come here until we call for them, so you can rest. No petitioner, no steward problems, no household decisions. It's just us."

He sighed and nestled his face against her warm thigh. Quite indecent.

He heard her open a book and felt her fingers slowly comb through his still-damp hair.

"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura

esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

che nel pensier rinova la paura!"

Italian wasn't exactly his forte, as he had mostly focused on Germanic languages, but he knew it well enough to appreciate Belle's proper pronunciation and accent, even in Dante's verse. He relaxed slightly, letting her voice float around him, the melodic syllables pulling at his heartstrings and taking him farther and farther away from the pains of the last days. The only thing that kept him tethered was the touch of her hand on his temple, down his face, sometimes even sneaking as low as his clavicle, making a small circle there and wandering back up to his forehead.

"Tant’è amara che poco è più morte;

ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,

dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.

Io non so ben ridir com’i’ v’intrai,

tant’era pien di sonno a quel punto

che la verace via abbandonai."

The floating was nice. Her voice sounded so self-assured, so full, he could not even remember what it was that had worried him just a moment before. He wanted to drown in that sound, that clear as a bell, perfect sound which he would follow to the ends of the world.

* * *

She let the book down, slowly, making sure the heavy volume wouldn't make a sound.

Adam was asleep. For the first time in months he slept, by her side - for the first time ever, in her lap - his features relaxed and making him look so much younger.

He had been exhausted, and her emotional outburst in the middle of his working day probably didn't help him. But she was tired, too. Tired of being pulled in too many directions at once. Tired of responsibility. Tired of loneliness, which no amount of Plumette's attention could fulfil. Tired of being tired, even.

Her head fell slowly against the seat of the couch behind her. She didn't really have any strength left in her to stand up - that would also mean moving his head off her lap, which would mean risking him waking up...

Her left hand sneaked under his shirt, to feel his heartbeat. Her eyes fluttered shut and open, shut and open, closer and closer, staying closed longer with his every breath, until all she could feel was the simple warmth of his body against hers.

* * *

She almost woke up when he had to open the library door, but he managed the feat without jostling her. A quick walk up the stairs and down the corridor to her room was cold, but not cold enough to wake her - she had to be exhausted, to fall asleep in the library like that in the afternoon, and then later, holding him. It seemed the last weeks were finally catching up with the both of them.

He had to admit, he had never felt as alive as on that field, in full light of the day, sun beating on his skin, muscles crying with the pain of proper use - no fiddly fencing, no gymnastics, no delicate riding of small, tamed horses. Just him and the pair of huge brutes and loading of the waggon, and lifting and carrying. Carrying his darling girl to her room seemed an insignificant effort after that, and yet the most important one in his life.

He couldn't properly undress her, and calling for Plumette at that hour of the night seemed barbaric - she was probably not in her room anyway, considering the looks his valet was giving her during their afternoon meal.

He laid Belle on top of her bed covers and cautiously took off her slippers. A look around her room didn't help him with finding something to cover her with, so he carefully rolled half of her comforter over her, turning her to her side. Leaving her so, he tried to leave as quietly as he could, but apparently something woke her anyway.

"Adam?" she whispered, sitting up.

He was by her side in a heartbeat.

"Do you need anything?" he brought her hands to his lips, relishing that small, intimate moment given to them by fate.

Again that look - the small movement of her head, turning her eyes away, baring her slender, white neck to him - how he wanted to kiss it, she probably never knew how utterly desirable she looked to him. She was embarrassed by whatever it was, obviously. Something she needed Plumette for, probably. Still, he could probably convince her to let him help.

He brought her face back to look at him.

"Belle, whatever it is..."

She sighed.

"I need someone to loosen my stays" she finally admitted. "Plumette laced them in the back and I can't sleep on that knot..."

No wonder she looked so embarrassed.

"Sit with your back to me" he suggested. "And let me do that much for you. You had sacrificed your comfort for mine today and I won't have you hurting yourself in your sleep just because you were kind enough to your maid and dismissed her earlier."

"But what if..." she looked over her shoulder at him.

"No 'but'" he began by pulling on the ribbon at her neck and then went down her spine, undoing the buttons one by one. "I find I don't care, you see. As long as we aren't hurting anyone, and our closest friends don't think less of us..."

"But you said yourself" she turned to him, frowning. "People will talk. They already talk. Today, the servants..." she trailed off, looking away.

"What happened?" he pulled himself up to sit on the edge of her narrow bed.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and shook her head.

"I will deal with it" she said finally. "You can't fight my battles for me. But we must be more careful. Some people already think we've..." she blushed. "And that we maintain separate rooms just to allow you to search for an actual wife, and that once you find her, I will find myself on the streets."

He had heard a phrase 'see red' before, but he had never understood what it meant. Now he suddenly learnt.

"Mon Dieu" he whispered hoarsely. "Why didn't you tell me..."

"I just heard it today. There are... things said about us. About you. Things that..." she swallowed. "I know they are false. But if someone hears it and spreads it..."

"I won't allow it" he drew her closer and pressed his lips to her hair. "Wait for me. I have something for you."

He was out of the door before she managed to react.

* * *

_The kitchen had been warm, but the feeling of happiness that followed her ever since the morning planning with Plumette had been utterly destroyed by the gossip of the late afternoon, leaving her empty and chilled from the inside. The only thing keeping her upright was the thought of his dear face as he knelt in front of her, kissing her hands over and over. During the whole evening, she rubbed her knuckles constantly, recalling the feeling of his lips over her skin._

_The servants snickered. When she sat with Mrs Potts over the stores to count how much was collected, and she spent more time staring into the window than on her sums. When she poured the water not into the teapot, but just next to it, almost ruining hours of their hard work. When she sat down for a moment, looking at her hands, imagining how his hair felt under her fingers._

_Plumette tried to shield her, of course. Plumette understood what Belle meant to their Prince. The others, despite having lived through the curse, were not so accepting of the newcomer in their midst._

_"...not be a proper wife..."_

_"...once he tires of her..."_

_"...so dull and simple..."_

_"...lowborn..."_

_"...once he finds someone suitable..."_

_"...will have to earn it on her back..."_

_She shook her head to stop listening, but the sounds were everywhere. Everyone was staring at her - her common dress, her plaited hair, her tanned face and hands. She looked just like them, only softer and more delicate. And she apparently aspired to something greater, which made her even worse. She was someone who tried to escape her own class. And admitted it openly._

_The oppressive feeling of the crowd wishing to bring her back down was so overwhelming she had to step out of the kitchen suddenly. As she stood on the kitchen porch, catching air in gasps, she could only feel despair. She wished dearly for Adam to be back, to be able to hold his hand and be reassured of his presence and his permanency. Her heart was beating so loudly she wondered how nobody else heard it._

_She, however, heard even more now, and immediately regretted it._

_"...up the duff..."_

_"...won't let the little bastard live..."_

_Before tears could break, Plumette was there, leading her away, up to the library. A book was pressed into her hands and a blanket was drawn about her. A cup of tea on the side table and a few candles lit in a holder, and she was all safe and warm again._

_"How..."_

_"They are simple, stupid and nasty women" Plumette said, putting a thick pillow at one end of the sofa and directing Belle to recline on it. "They don't see it. They don't understand what happened with the curse. They don't really know what happened. How big a risk you took. How you saved him. How you saved us all. They think he should be marrying a duchess, or come countess or... whoever. They don't understand why he is suddenly interested in a commoner."_

_Belle sighed._

_"Sometimes I'm afraid he will wake up and ask himself the same question. It's not like I have any idea what to do as his wife. I can't manage even the... house. Meaning, the house part of the castle. The castle as a whole how way too much for me to even consider. And Adam will notice it someday and will find himself someone better fitting..."_

_She finally noticed Plumette's silence and looked up at her maid who was watching her in wonder._

_"There is nobody more fitting. Even if you never learn anything about the house, the castle, the county or the whole damned principality. Our Prince is smart enough to know that."_

_She left, and Belle tried to relax enough to read - whatever it was that Plumette had fetched for her. She found herself fascinated, and the thickness of the book promised many hours of satisfactory reading. She would, however, need to fetch a dictionary. In a moment. She just needed to rest for a moment, and then the supper would be ready for them._

* * *

Slowly she stood up, pulling the dress over her head. She didn't have to undo the top, actually - she usually didn't, as the stupid buttons were out of reach. Just as the stays' knot. She tried reaching it, hoping to get rid of the restrictive piece before Adam returned - to be able to pull on a nightgown or slip under her comforter...

She almost shrieked when a warm hand covered hers.

"Let me help you" he said simply, pulling on the right end of the lace and suddenly she felt so relieved - she could finally breathe again - that she wept, unable to stop the tears falling. "Belle" he pulled her closer, never even noticing the small garment that fell to the floor beside them. "Belle, please. What is wrong?"

"N-nothing. I am just _so tired_. I can barely read, I can't... I can't focus, I can't learn, I can't write - Mrs Potts probably thinks I'm too stupid to manage the house, and even the maids are whispering behind my back. I can't do anything correctly!"

"What? Who said that?"

Her lips trembled but she remained quiet.

"Belle, you are tired, we both are. None of us sleeps enough. When you are that tired, even reading is hard, and learning anything is impossible. I think we both need some time away from the house matters" he pulled her towards her bed. "Now, you get under this blanket, and I'll add another. And I will sit with you until you fall asleep. And tomorrow, no lessons, no reading, no... no nothing. I'll tell Mrs Potts and Cogsworth that you're feeling poorly and you need more sleep. And that's true. And..." he smiled as she settled back under her covers "we may give the household something new to focus on, what do you think?"

She frowned as he reached into his pocket.

"I considered taking something from the treasury, but decided to order a completely new one for you. I thought it fitting, with this colour, and it not being an actual stone, like I wasn't an actual human being when you met me..."

The ring was tiny and perfect. Small, honey-coloured ambers went around the quarter of it, forming a luminous band.

"Adam?"

"I asked you already - and you said yes - so... I thought you would like to have a token of that... and to be able to show it to nosey maids and other stupid people. I don't like the thought of you feeling bad because of them. Mon Dieu, you've _saved_ them! If it wasn't for you they would still be standing there, gathering dust, not even conscious of ever having been human! They don't deserve you."

He slowly pushed the ring on her finger and kissed her hand.

"I... I hope you like it" he said finally, pressing his lips into her palm, delighting in the little gasp she didn't manage to silence.

She reached with the other hand, cupping his face and caressing his sun-darkened skin cautiously.

"I love it. I love you, and..." she pulled him slightly closer. "I wish we didn't have to do all this sneaking around and skulking in the corridors."

He kissed her tenderly and smiled.

"What would you think of a wedding at the end of harvest season?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle is reading "Divine Commedy".
> 
> So. What do you think?
> 
> I think I can see the next chapter, but can't think of appropriate title for it.


	3. Dark Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plumette worries and schemes, Belle hears gossip and unwelcome visitors arrive.  
> \---------  
> "Very well. You will take a break now and you will tell me where that slattern is."  
> "Pardon?" Belle's breath caught, just a bit.  
> "There is a woman kept here, by my nephew. In this castle. I wish to know where she is."  
> \---------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next two chapters are now in correction, and they will make a little story arc together.  
> Let me know what you think about this one :)

The whispers were getting more and more suggestive. Plumette had to admit to herself - some of her subordinates had to be the absolutely stupidest girls in the county. Or even the country. Many a time had she trembled with the need to smack one or two idiotic heads with a duster - or maybe a wooden spoon, which was Mrs Potts' preferred weapon.

Belle was withdrawing even more into herself. Gone was the open and curious girl that sneaked into their castle in search of her father. Gone was the fierce protector of their Master. Even her radiant beauty seemed diminished by the slight thinning of her cheeks and dulling of the usual sheen of her hair. Plumette made an attempt at working out exactly how much her mistress was eating, but it seemed that "next to nothing" was coming up as the most probable answer. It was, of course, fashionable for young ladies to ensure their figure was rather slim, but in her opinion, her mistress seemed to be exaggerating.

Every day she tried to ensure that Belle would eat something at least for breakfast, but the sneakily cream-heavy tea, buttery croissants and sugary jam were left untouched, in favour of plain toast and water.

Evening meal, such as it was, was even worse. With Belle and the Prince taking supper in the library, dismissing both her and Lumiere, she didn't even have a chance to nag her charge into feeding herself properly.

Every day she laced Belle's corsets in the same way.

Every day the corsets seemed a tiny bit less restrictive.

Every day Plumette worried some more.

***

"Mon amour" she stepped away from the library door and into Jean-Pierre's embrace. "We have to do something."

"There are many, many wonderful things I'd like to do with you" he whispered into her shoulder, pulling her closer. "Pick any of them."

She sighed, pressing her palms on his shoulders to still him.

"Not about us. About Belle."

He made a disappointed and surprised sound.

"She had been feeling poorly lately" she explained, not willing to go into details. "And probably not eating enough. What would you think about getting the Master to make sure she eats her dinner? When she brings him his basket, he could make sure she eats at least a little something?"

He nodded slowly.

"He could be the only one who can convince her if you couldn’t. I hope I can convey the message without making him too anxious. You know very well how he would react, should there be something wrong with her."

Plumette snorted and leaned on his shoulder.

"Shut her in the tower and feed her himself" she provided. "And stand over her until she finishes each course."

"She would probably end up hitting him on a head with a stool."

"Naturellement. Better make it a _very_ delicate suggestion then. We don't want to end up with a _situation_ on our hands."

***

Belle felt _light_. She was waiting with Adam's basket among the servants milling around with the food - some for their chosen men, some just preparing to serve the unpartnered workers at the long trestle table. There was a lot of jostling and amicable ribbing between the younger girls, who were trying to work up their courage to actually ask one or another specific man to join them separately from the rest of the group. Apparently, the feeding of the field workers changed into some kind of a custom, which included pairs forming based on who went with who (and who was still left by the common table). She could watch several more pairs each day leaving the general populace of table-sitters, and even there, some pairs sat together more often.

It was nice, actually. Something about food and sharing the space, and men depending on the women made it more of a courtship ritual than anything else.

The _lightness_ she felt was heightened when she thought about Adam. There was something incredibly sweet about the way he always led her to the same spot in which he had actually proposed to her, finally. Some days they just sat side by side in silence, him literally devouring the meal - especially when the night had been rainy, the roads muddy and the horses more stubborn than usual. Some days he just needed mostly water, pressing her to share the meal with him. She ate an apple, sometimes, slowly. Apples didn't affect the _lightness_. Meat pies did, so she avoided them carefully. _Lightness_ allowed her to sleep better - she had almost no nightmares since she had started paying attention to it. No more nightmares, no more sleepless nights. She felt more awake and quicker than ever before, and she felt in control of herself, finally. She conquered them at last and so revelled in the perfect way she managed to direct her own life.

She knew Adam was also much better since he started working in the fields - he had told her that daily effort, and constant contact with others made the Beast much easier to manage. The time spent with her helped him, too - he exercised the control and proved to himself that he was subduing his more furry self when faced with the temptations of her presence.

His company healed her own soul’s wounds. Especially since the fieldwork allowed her to see him in much more informal situations than the ballroom or even the library. Witnessing him being slightly dishevelled, maybe tired, maybe engaged in some new activity - that made him easier to learn than their strained semi-official contacts of just mere two weeks prior.

Sometimes she bit her lip just to make sure she wouldn't say something about missing the old him - or their friendship from _before_. She knew it hurt him to think that now he was somehow less than _before_. She focused on the _lightness_ and smiled in relief - it was still there. The only thing that affected it were the giggles she sometimes heard, but closing her eyes, focusing on that small controlled part inside and controlled breathing made it easier to ignore them.

As they waited and the men working closest to the castle started appearing, women setting up the main table, some separating to find their own husbands, she stood quietly, still, eyes half-closed in anticipation of his arrival. Adam would not be coming anytime soon, she knew perfectly well. He was always on one of the farther fields, usually driving back a big waggon, which took more time to load and required more careful handling on the bad roads.

Someone jostled her and she staggered a few steps, trying to catch her balance.

"...useless and clumsy..."

"...women get clumsy in this condition..."

_Oh, Lord. I... They can't... Why?_

She nearly clutched at her midsection in panic. She couldn't be gaining that much weight, but with the fabulous food Mrs Potts was having prepared for them, who knew? She tried to eat sparingly when in the library, to make sure she could still fit in all the wonderful dresses she already had - and the wedding dress being prepared by Madame. She had heard about girls who got so plump before their weddings that their dresses had to be let out. Now she wondered whether they were only getting a bit fatter, or maybe also that _other thing_.

_They probably think we've... They are just like the people from town._

Only when Adam appeared, walking the team of horses, she managed to regain the hold on her _lightness_ again. He seemed preoccupied but got her to eat an apple and she managed to keep the _lightness_ despite the fact that the apple was also accompanied by a bit of a lemon tart he had actually fed her, teasing her to tell him if she thinks it had been made of real lemons.

Of course, it had, Mrs Potts had made it herself. But there was no convincing Adam, so she bit the very tiniest bite and made a whole performance of chewing, considering it carefully and swallowing, as he stared at her in mirth. He kissed her then, and the _lightness_ came back, slowly.

She could safely tell Mrs Potts that she ate with the master, then.

***

The door to the library was opened with a loud thud that nearly made Belle topple from the ladder. She tried to see who had just entered the one room that could be designated as "theirs", but being behind one of the bigger cabinets, she had no direct line to see the door.

"Hello?" she called out. "Who is it?"

She dearly hoped it was just a footman, maybe bringing in some forgotten volumes from another part of the castle. They tended to be less than delicate with the door, unfortunately, usually opening it with an elbow of a well-laden arm.

"Who are you?"

She looked down to see an elderly, rather elaborately clad woman.

A stranger. But if the guards had let her in, that means she's Adam's family...

Belle felt a bit faint, her hands clutching the ladder rung for dear life.

"Excuse me?" she managed to say finally.

"Who are you, girl. What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorting the books" she answered simply, truthfully and not exactly fully. "This cabinet..."

"Why are you doing it?" the woman queried angrily. "Where is the librarian?"

Belle took a very careful step down, and another, slowly descending until she could see the woman's wrinkly face up close.

"I am the librarian" she answered simply. "This is my job, I sort the books."

The stranger snorted derisively.

"Impossible. You're just a peasant, how would you even know how to read?"

_Be patient, Belle._

"I know how to read, ma'am. I was tasked with making an order in the library, and that's what I'm doing."

Of course, the "task" was more of "love, if you only wish, you can spend your whole morning there, but remember to go outside with the maids in the afternoon, you need sun and they need someone to organise their work" kind of request, that was actually whispered into her ear as they were sitting on a sofa near the fire, rather than an actual order. Still, it wasn't that woman's business, at all.

"Very well. You will take a break now and you will tell me where that slattern is."

"Pardon?" Belle's breath caught, just a bit.

"There is a woman kept here, by my nephew. In this castle. I wish to know where she is."

Belle took a step back.

"What do you mean, ma'am?"

"What I mean, you dull creature, is that I know that my nephew - that would be your prince, if you are too dim to understand that - is keeping a woman he had apparently picked at some remote village and is... having her."

Plumette suddenly appeared in the door, her face beaded with sweat and her natural dark locks spilling from a careful updo.

"Belle?" she ventured cautiously. "Is everything fine?"

Belle felt that her strained smile probably provided at least a partial answer.

"It's... It's fine, Plumette" she answered, her voice breaking. "Can you help us? I'm afraid we have a bit of a case of gossip on our hands."

The woman between them looked at Plumette with distaste.

"What is this?" she asked, grimacing.

"This is the head maid, ma'am" Belle said quickly. "If anyone knows, she would. Plumette, it seems there is a gossip that our prince is keeping a woman for... for his entertainment. Is there anyone in the castle that could fit the bill? Our prince's aunt had come to verify the rumours."

Plumette curtsied and made a thoughtful expression.

"I'm afraid, ma'am, that we aren't having any guests at this moment" she said slowly. "It's only the prince and the castle staff. This is a very busy season, end of harvest. There were no plans of entertaining any visitors for the next few weeks."

The old woman looked between them, squinting her eyes, and finally snorted.

"He had apparently trained his staff very well to lie for him" she said coldly. "I wish to speak to him. Where is he?"

Belle and Plumette exchanged glances.

"All the able-bodied men from the castle are out in the fields" Belle said. "There is still a lot to collect and everyone is helping."

"That is what I've been told already by three different persons! What does it have to do with my nephew?!"

Plumette's brows rose.

"He is an able-bodied man, ma'am" Belle provided cautiously. "He is out there, with all others."

The old woman frowned and suddenly sat on one of the chairs.

"What are you talking about? Impossible!"

Belle shrugged, just a tiniest bit.

"Ma'am, this is the truth. It's been like this for the last ten days, they need to hurry before the rains set in. The prince's skill with the horses is much needed in a time like this."

"I must see him immediately."

"They will be coming in for the noon meal in half an hour... Mon Dieu, Plumette! We must be downstairs in twenty minutes!" she turned her maid's back to her and set on undoing the apron knot, then they switched places and Plumette helped her to take her own off.

"Why are you running!? Stay here!" the older woman demanded imperiously with an air of someone rarely defied.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. All the women of the castle go to help with the meal. The men have to be fed quickly to allow them to go back to the fields. We will be expected by the housekeeper."

"What are you blathering about?!"

Belle hung hers and Plumette's aprons on the hooks by the door and hurried down the corridor, leaving the enraged woman behind them.

"Run downstairs" she managed to gasp. "Find Lumiere, tell him to stop Adam from..."

A thick, muscled arm stopped them both at the top of the stairs.

"Well, well" a low, rumbling voice laughed nastily. "What do we have here? Thieves? Slackers? Burglars?"

"Unhand me!" Belle pushed at the man's biceps, trying to free herself. "Unhand me this instant!"

"Aren't you a ferocious little thing" he leered. "What kind of a servant might you be?"

She swallowed, trying not to breathe in the sweaty body odour surrounding him.

_Dear God, even men in the village bathed more often. There was something to be appreciated about Gaston's vanity - he knew how to use soap!_

"Now, now, little girl" the mountain of a man kept his arm around her waist with no effort, despite all of her twisting and straining. "Keep still so I can have a look at you."

He raised the other hand to push her head up, momentarily freeing Plumette, who looked at Belle for just a second and then ran down the corridor at her best speed.

"Lucius, stop playing with the help" the old woman caught up to them. "This is, supposedly, the castle librarian. If you break her, your cousin may be inconvenienced."

"But she is funny, mother" he pulled Belle even closer and she shuddered with revulsion. "She is pretending she doesn't like me."

"Sir, please" Belle barely managed to draw enough breath. "You're hurting me."

There were steps behind the corner, coming quickly their way. She prayed silently for these to be one of the smarter guards.

"What are you doing, Lucius?"

_Oh, no._

"Adam" the man holding her ran a hand down her back and squeezed her seat brutally. "I see you've found yourself a comely little thing to hire as a librarian. I wonder if she also serves some other purposes, because, honestly, you don't need a librarian for the measly three books you probably possess."

"Please" she was seeing black spots and didn't really care who heard her plea. She felt something give in sharply and coughed, gasping for air, her insides turning upside down with the stench coming from the man holding her. His hand grasped her knee, pulling it at an uncomfortable angle. She choked with lack of air.

***

His fist made a satisfactory sound when it hit his cousin's jaw. Lucius had never been his favourite relation and seeing him mauling Belle made Adam release just a tiny, controlled bit of the _other one_ , to deal with an intruder hurting his mate. Once the big man was reeling from the well-placed punch, Adam caught Belle before she could hit the floor.

"Now, nephew" the voice of his aunt made him shiver. "What is this all about?"

"This is about _Lucius_ putting his hands on my people" he growled, gesturing to one of the guards who followed him. "Take her to her room and get one of the maids to attend to her."

"Adam, this is hardly..."

"The girl works in this castle. She is a part of the _household_. She will not be molested" he channelled the growl in a satisfactory manner. The previous weeks spent on working himself to the bone and attending to Belle's need for his company gave him a fabulous training in reining in the Beast _and_ in letting him loose to a controlled degree. "What do you want?"

He finally turned towards the old woman. His aunt looked almost as dry and wooden as his cousin was meaty and swollen. _It's a wonder how this mountain of meat may actually be her son._ He sighed and motioned for the other guard.

"Find Lumiere. Inform him and Cogsworth of our visitors. Let them arrange everything, including bedrooms for the next three days. In the West Wing."

"Mon prince" the man bowed slightly and marched away in search of the valet and the majordomo. Adam could only hope Lumiere would understand the message and put them in a safe, secluded place where they could be easily guarded and controlled.

"Three days!?" his aunt cried indignantly. "We came all this way, we won't be thrown out after three measly days!"

"Aunt Margot" he faced her directly, gladly making use of the fact that he was no longer the scrawniest of her nephews and so actually could look down on her. "This is the harvest season. We still have half of the fields to clear and we are running out of time. The weather had been bad for several weeks and only in the last fortnight we've been able to do some actual work. Everyone is needed, and I have no time for visitors. There will be barely any servants available to attend you and I will not pull anyone from the fields who is able at least to pick the apples."

"And yet I saw servants lazing around - that librarian, why is she not outside, if you claim everyone is?"

Adam felt the urge to punch something, but unfortunately, Lucius was still sitting quietly down by the wall, listening attentively, offering no excuse for a bit of pummelling.

"She is helping Mrs Potts with the ledgers and looking for any almanac or recipe book that would help us preserve the stores better until the spring" he said with faked indifference. "She goes to the orchard with the other maids in the afternoons. It's not good to allow the working groups to mix, so the women don't go into the fields."

"Hmpf. She behaves like a savage."

He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, but allowed himself to free just a tiny bit of the Beast to deal with the situation.

"There is only one savage now in this castle, and he is male" he nodded towards his cousin. "Please do keep him on a leash, aunt. I will not be so lenient the next time."

He saw her blink in surprise.

_Good. This will make her think about something else than Belle._

"What happened to you, Adam? How can you be so unfeeling towards your family?"

He actually laughed, surprising her even more.

_My family. My family is Belle, and the rest can go to hell._

"My family, aunt, hadn't bothered to check on me for the last ten years" he found he wasn't above playing this card, despite them having been quite innocent of any wrongdoing at the time. They were guilty _now_ , and this gave him a chance to get them to leave, or at least back off. "We've managed as well as we could in the meanwhile, thank you. This year is going to be hard, so I'm out there, with my people, trying to ensure that everyone survives until spring."

"Your father...!"

"My father never cared what happened to me" he shrugged. "Why should I care about his supposed thoughts now?"

"Your uncle is concerned."

"My uncle should have been concerned when I dropped off the face of Earth. But nobody cared to remember one embarrassing relative somewhere in a poor province, so..." he shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt for milking the situation so, but getting rid of them was more important. "Now we cope as well as we can."

"There have been rumours about you, Adam" she persevered, even as he turned towards his rooms. "Very worrying rumours."

"And you and Lucius have been dispatched to check if I am... what? Sick? Mad? Consorting with common men?"

"Consorting with common women" she spat out.

"As if I had any time" he shrugged innocently. "I am in the fields from dawn until dusk, then I sit over the estate papers, trying to economise on everything that is not essential, then, if I don't fall asleep at my desk, I sometimes manage to eat supper, then it's usually around midnight and I'm unable to even read, so..."

_Mentioning that I see Belle at every meal and she helps me with the estate accounts would probably not work very well._

"Young men manage to find time for their paramours since time immemorial" her voice was cold and suspicious.

_I hope we can get them away before the preparations begin to be obvious._

"Aunt, there is no paramour, no kept woman, no... whatever they are talking about. There is nobody in the castle that doesn't have a role in keeping this pile of rocks together" he never even hesitated. All he said was, after all, perfectly true.

"They say you've picked some village trash, already gone through other men's arms and beds before. They even say you've killed the man she lived with!"

He stopped mid-stride.

"Who said this? Who is feeding my family this kind of... rubbish?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Your uncle had hired a man to find out what happened to you when you first wrote about your... so-called illness. I didn't believe a word of that letter, Adam. I don't know what you were up to, but I promise you, I will find out."

He opened the door to his bedroom and sighed tiredly.

"You can even come in, aunt. You will find nothing feminine in here, and nothing more sinister in here than a rifle or two. Maybe a letter opener. There is no mistress in my bed, or in my sitting room. The last female to visit this room was the maid who mended the fireplace today morning. And yesterday morning, too. The only other person to come here is Lumiere. I hope having a valet is still accepted, or did it somehow change in the time I was not in contact with the rest of the family?"

"Adam! I don't know where this language of yours comes from! How dare you...!"

"I'm a grown man, aunt, with a lot of work to do and not much time for formalities. I hope your stay at the castle is comfortable, but I'm afraid my contact with so-called society had been reduced for such a long time that I will not be the best company for you. Please let me know if there is anything unsatisfactory, but I'm afraid you can't expect much of _elegance_ from me and mine."

He revelled in it, just a little bit. She was standing there, her white wig trembling with her every move, powder falling everywhere - he would have to have the room swept when she leaves - and looking completely off balance. Still, not enraged or even annoyed enough to be willing to bother her older brother, who in turn...

"Now, you will excuse me. I must change and go back downstairs. We still have a few hours of daylight good enough to work. My horses will be taken care of, but I need to eat, considering you've managed to interrupt during my noon break."

"You surely aren't considering going outside in this... this outfit!" she sounded actually horrified.

"It's much more rational to go dressed like this than in my velvets and silks" he drew the shirt out of his breeches. "Now, aunt, I'm afraid I'm too old for being assisted by the ladies of the family when I'm changing, so unless you wish to see more, I'd suggest you leave."

Her eyes went wide and he quickly found himself alone in his room.

"Thank God" he whispered, falling on the bed and covering his face. "What a day."

"Mon Prince."

"Lumiere, stop sounding so damn formal" he growled without looking. "How is she doing?"

"Which 'she' would that be, my lord?"

"Stop. Belle, obviously. I know Plumette is fine because she was the one who fetched me. My aunt may go and jump into a well, as far as I'm concerned."

"Plumette is with her. She will be rather bruised, the maids said. They will keep her in bed at least for a day. Fortunately, she had her corset on, or they would have been worried about her ribs."

"If there is a turn for worse, you know what to do. Don't wait for me - tell Plumette to summon a medic. Between the two of us, she knows the best how to make Belle tell her all these things that she would not admit to me. If you could be so kind and..." he stopped and searched for the right way to phrase it. "Belle will need someone to stay with her" he managed to finish. "And only Plumette..."

"I think I will cope for a day or two" Lumiere smiled crookedly. "Anything for our princess."

"Thank you, my friend" he rose and tried tying his hair back again. "Blast it, we should be going, and I haven't eaten anything."

Lumiere pushed a basket across a bit of stone floor between the rugs and stood behind his friend, taking over the ribbon.

"You still have time. They can start with the other horses, you will have at least fifteen minutes before it's your turn. Eat and drink, or you will collapse and we'll have to spare men to bring you home."

"We, said the man who shied away from horses mere ten days ago!"

"You can jest, mon prince, but please, do eat. After all, Mademoiselle had prepared this for you herself."

He blinked, looking again at the basket.

"She did?"

"That's what my darling tells me. She went to the kitchens before the food was prepared and claimed a place at the table, putting the contents together specifically for you. Mrs Potts seemed impressed, apparently" he tied the ribbon tight, finally.

"Mrs Potts is unhappy with Belle recently, so that means she must have been..." he mumbled, raising the lid. "Oh."

It was obvious Belle had been planning to convince him to take a longer break that noon. There was a fresh shirt, as every day, a new piece of ribbon to tie his hair, the same. But the book and the second wine cup seemed to be more...

"Oh..." Lumiere shook his head. "Well, nothing to be done now. We have to survive the next few days and hope we manage to prepare the feast without anyone's interference in time."

"I've promised Belle that we'll get married the day after the last of the crops is collected, whatever day of the week or month it is" he said, reaching for a meat pie wrapped in a napkin. "It would be good to see how we are progressing and check if we can make it before the end of September. I don't want us to risk any more relatives coming and trying to disrupt the preparations."

"And what about your uncle?"

Adam managed to put the pie away before his fists curled tightly.

"My uncle can go and..."

"Mon prince, the Lord your uncle will probably try to interfere, should you anger him sufficiently. And you know he has enough influence with the King to be able to make this a problem for you."

"Then I must marry before he can try" he rubbed his eyes. "We must reorganise the crop collection. Prepare as many carts, waggons and, well, whatever is available to ride. Hitch horses, mules, donkeys and put the waggons in a line. First teams go out, with all possible drivers, collect crops, come back. Workers at the barns unload, but then the driver doesn't stay, just takes another team and goes into the field. If it's a nearby field, they can go on foot back to the barn and take another team. In the meanwhile, the people on the field will have loaded the cart, so he can switch now to the full one. Comes back to the barn, leaves the team, takes another. And so on, until the fields are clear. This means the people who are skilled drivers won't spend that much time idling or doing other jobs but will do what they are skilled at."

"Like you?"

"Like me. I'm fairly useful at loading, but I think I'm a bit more useful when I'm driving. Redirect all the maids from the house to orchards and vegetable fields. Whoever is left, like scullery maids, get them to reorganise the cellars. Mrs Potts will know the best how to sort the vegetables for storage. We'll close most of the castle off, too. No need to clean and heat the whole structure. If there is anyone who can't go out, because they have tasks around the castle, have Cogsworth arrange a roster of duties for closing off unneeded rooms. Leave Plumette off it, she will need to stay with Belle, but otherwise, everyone has to be set to work."

He cleaned the last crumbs of the third pie by that time and picked up an apple and a flask of wine.

"Take a cup, Lumiere. We'll need something to fortify us for the evening ahead. I'm expecting nothing less than constant torment with Lucius present."

"You're an optimist, as usual, mon prince."

 


	4. Dimming Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mon Dieu" he groaned. "If they try to stay any longer than three days, *I* will start wishing we were still cursed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 out of 3 in this tiny story arc.  
> I still have no idea where this is going, to be honest. They just happen to be doing things and I write them down :)

She woke suddenly, sitting up straight. Her ribs hurt and she felt as if her left leg was a different shape from the right.

"Mademoiselle?" the young maid sitting next to her straightened. "Please lie down, you are bruised all over. Plumette will be back soon, she went to fetch the ointment and the bandages."

She dropped back onto her pillows and probed her midsection cautiously with her fingertips.

"Ow."

The maid looked at her with exasperation.

"Just like I told you. Plumette says you were lucky you had your corset on, or that dreadful man would have broken your ribs. Now you will have bruises from all the bones in your corset, but at least nothing was broken."

"What happened?" she managed to whisper, her breaths shallow.

"Oh, here, tea" the girl poured her a cup and helped her to drink. "The guard said _he_..." her voice dropped dramatically " _he_ was holding you and you fainted, and then the prince hit him so hard that this man just dropped to the floor. And then the guard brought you to your room and Plumette managed to get the corset off you and you were going purple and black everywhere. She just said something very very bad and ran down to the kitchen, for the ointment for the bruises."

"What happened next?" she sipped some more tea.

"I don't know. I'm supposed to sit with you and not let anyone in unless it's Plumette. She should be back any minute."

Belle's head dropped to her pillow.

"Who was that man?" she asked finally. "That woman who came, she is the prince's aunt, I understood that much. I think he called her 'mother', but I can't really believe it."

The maid - she finally recalled the name, Rosalie - shrugged.

"Plumette told me it was the master's cousin. So he may be the little old lady's son, I suppose."

"Dear God. He _stank_."

Rosalie snorted.

"He did, didn't he? I thought that the men coming from the fields were smelly, but they at least smelled, well, _fresh_. And they all go to the well and have a huge wash after work. Monsieur Cogsworth was very angry, because then they trailed mud everywhere on the first day, but they are... Clean. Or at least they try."

Belle shuddered.

"He was disgusting. And he..." she rubbed her cheeks with both hands. "Mon Dieu, I hope he leaves, soon. I don't want to see his ugly face ever again."

The knocking made them both jump a bit.

"Rosalie, let me in" Plumette called softly.

In a few heartbeats, Plumette was inside, the door locked again.

"Why are you locking the door?" Belle looked in alarm at her maid. "What happened?"

"The master told us you must be kept safe and accompanied at all times, ma cherie. And, preferably, stay in the room for the next few days" Plumette uncorked a bottle. "Our _visitors_ are making him uncomfortable."

Belle frowned and pulled herself up.

"Why should I stay in my room? What is wrong?"

The maids looked at each other.

"WHAT?"

"The master's cousin is..."

Belle groaned in frustration.

"Because that man is here, I will be the prisoner of my own rooms?"

"It's for your safety, Belle" Plumette pulled her nightgown aside and hissed. "This will take days to heal. Merde, what is that man made of, wooden barrels? Iron bars?"

"Stupidity and smell" Belle moaned as Plumette started applying the ointment. "Dear God, it hurts. What about Adam? Rosalie told me he punched his cousin, is everything fine?"

Plumette nodded. "The prince is not hurt. Apparently, his cousin was much too surprised to retaliate. We can only hope they will not try anything excessive later on. Anyway, everyone is out in the fields and on the grounds now, except the three of us and the kitchen, so Jean-Pierre suggested we simply stay with you - both to make sure you're fine and that nobody tries to get inside" she grimaced. "I hope that man slips on the stair one day and we'll be rid of him!"

Belle cringed at the thought of that man being in the same building as her - even one as big as their castle. She could imagine him hiding in the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting maids.

"We have to tell all the girls to go in pairs" she said, breath catching as Plumette covered her bruises with sweet-smelling liquid. "Please tell Mrs Potts that it's for their own security. And not to let any girl be caught in a darkened corridor like we were. If they are warned and always with company, they will be safer. And we still have to consider how to close the castle down for the winter, as soon as we can - it is getting colder and it will be harder to maintain the heat everywhere. If Adam didn't order anything yet, it would be good to make a chore roster for anyone who is working in the palace and couldn't be spared for the fields. Scullery maids may have some time, what with everyone eating outside and not using plates or cutlery, and the girl who tends to the fireplaces, too. Just put them in pairs and tell them to never go separately. The guards patrol these corridors anyway, so they can do the final check of each room and close it. There are still evenings - I don't want to take away people's time, but for our all sakes it has to be done sooner rather than later. All the furniture has to be checked and covered with sheets, all the windows mended and closed, and everything that could be food for mice or other pests must be removed. Also, anything loose, like small personal objects, removed to the storage. Once each corridor is completed, I have to think what to do to make sure there are no drafts. Maybe old heavy curtains? There should be a lot of these. We could have then hanging over each main door. And roll up older carpets, to make a wind block on the floor."

"I suppose Mrs Potts will know where to look for them, but there are many, for sure. Now, ma cherie, roll over and let me see your other side."

Belle slowly lowered herself in the bed, to make turning her back to the maids easier.

Plumette slowly drew up her linen nightdress, covering the exposed inches immediately with a comforter. When they were at Belle's thighs, she almost cried out.

"Ma cherie! What did that man do to you? You have a bruise... how big are his hands? I didn't see that one before..."

"Huge" Belle shuddered. "Now, please. It hurts."

Very soon Belle's slim thigh was covered with the medicine and they moved to her lower back, also painted with purple markings. Rosalie watched that with widened eyes.

"Yes, little one" Plumette applies the ointment with grim determination. "This is what men do to women, sometimes. It will be good for you to remember this."

"But why... why would he do something that..." the girl was stuffing her fist into her mouth in fear.

"Because he is mad" Belle hissed as Plumette's fingers touched the blood-swollen, almost black, spot on her back. "He wanted to show that I'm a lesser being than him, and he can only do this using physical power, aah! Wait, Plumette. I need a moment."

She panted into the mattress for a moment.

"That hurt" she said with effort and held her breath for a few heartbeats. "It's fine now. Let's continue."

"So he is stupid and he still thinks he is better than you?" Rosalie seemed perplexed. "And that's why he did _that_ to you?"

"Yes. I know it doesn't make sense, but for him it does. Or maybe he just doesn't care and wanted to hurt me, that's all."

"But, Mademoiselle! Even the master, before the curse, he would have never done something like this! Everyone talked of him, and said he was a cad, and a wastrel, but... But he would have never hurt any of us maids" Rosalie was wringing her hands in her lap nervously.

"Any of the ladies, either" Plumette assured them. "It seems like the definition of 'the Beast' varies depending on the area. I'd say even our Prince before the curse was much more of a human being than this cousin of his. His control over his desires was never the best, but these ran mostly towards women, wine and comfort. He could be cruel with his words, and that was what got us into trouble, but he never beat anyone. Yes, there were punishments, like everywhere - a thief got flogged, or a scullery maid got slapped for breaking something. But it was..." she searched for the right word. "it wasn't vicious. It was a punishment, not... not just to... Oh, Mon Dieu! Rosalie, fetch the water and the napkins, there is some bleeding."

Belle groaned.

"Stay like this, it will allow the wound to air, just let me clean it. One of the bones of your corset must have cut you here."

"I felt something breaking when he was holding me. I was afraid it was one of my ribs, actually."

"No, but he bent several inserts in the corset. We'll have to replace most of them, they are so damaged. I can only imagine what would have happened to you, were you wearing only your soft stays!"

Their patient shuddered.

"I dearly hope I will never see that man again" she said weakly. "I think, now that I've had time to consider this carefully, that three or four quiet days in my room will be exactly perfect. Let's just make sure the household is running smoothly and the visitors have nothing to complain of. Plumette, please talk to Mrs Potts to make sure not even the fireplace girl goes to their rooms unattended. When are they leaving?"

"In three days" Plumette's voice dropped. "Jean-Pierre is terribly unhappy, but he says it is better than the alternative. Our master's uncle has influence at the court and should he learn of something untoward, he could even have the King's ear and make life much more complicated for all of us."

Belle grimaced as the gash on her shoulder blade was cleaned.

"Rosalie, please bring me a few pieces of paper from the bureau. And a graphite stick. I need to make some notes and I'd rather not use a pen in bed."

***

"Not let any maid go to their rooms without a guard, yes, that does seem sensible. Dear girl, she probably guesses right" Mrs Potts wiped her hands. "What else?"

"To make sure no maid, even the dairymaids or ones from the laundry, goes alone anywhere, so we'll have to make sure they are all paired up" Plumette sighed. "This feels like a siege."

"It is a siege, my girl. We have to weather it and survive."

"Let's only hope they don't receive reinforcements" the maid said with a sigh. "It's hard enough as it is."

"How is our poor girl doing?"

"Restless" Plumette shook her head. "She has to lie on her stomach, he managed to cut her back with her corset. She can't read any books, can't move and, as you see, is only making notes in pencil. She is trying to work out some ways to get the harvest in quicker, and to plan the closing of the unused parts of the castle for winter, using her footstool as a table, lying down on her bed with her head and one arm hanging down."

Mrs Potts chuckled, a bit wetly.

"Dear children, they think in exactly the same way" she sniffed and pulled a few pieces of paper covered with the Prince's wide scrawl. "Even their suggestions are almost the same - only Belle added the suggestion of guards checking the rooms and adding the curtains on every corridor we finish, and Adam already mentioned some reorganisation for the tomorrow crop collection."

"They do think in amazingly similar ways" Plumette agreed. "I just hope that they manage to get this all done in time and nobody interrupts the celebration at the end..."

"What celebration?"

Whole kitchen fell silent as the elderly aristocrat stood suddenly in the door.

"Ma'am?"

"You will be having a celebration. Of what?"

Plumette looked at Mrs Potts in panic.

"The Harvest Fair" said the housekeeper without a pause. "We want to make it properly fine this year, considering how badly it went until now. Everyone deserves a reward for their hard work."

"And the two of you are now doing what...?"

"Planning for the next month, ma'am" Plumette curtsied. "The prince had ordered parts of the castle to be closed off for winter, so we need to make sure everything is in place."

"Closing the palace for winter?" the woman grimaced. "Why would he do that?"

Mrs Potts and Plumette exchanged another glance.

"Because we have to economise" the older woman said slowly. "And not having to heat the whole structure will make it easier to manage. We will be able to conserve heat by hanging curtains on the unused corridors and then the staff will have more time for..."

"What are you doing here, aunt?"

***

She was bothering the staff, again. She had started with one of the younger maids, who was mending the fires in their assigned rooms, asking her questions in such a way that the poor girl burst in tears and almost tripped into the fireplace.

She was looking for Belle, that was obvious. Not for Belle, as Belle, but for his elusive illicit lover. Sometimes it made him want to weep - when he was at the bottom of his debauched years, nobody cared. Suddenly now that he had managed to turn his life around and had only one woman on his mind, everyone thought it was their business.

He had to intervene before she said something to aggravate Mrs Potts and Plumette even further. They had enough problems as it was, and adding his enraged aunt, obviously on a hunt for gossip, was not something he wished on his staff.

"What are _you_ doing here, nephew? I thought you'd have left for the fields!"

"And that's why you had come down here to interrogate my employees? Actually, we have finished earlier today, to let the horses rest, because tomorrow we are starting for remote fields. Now, please leave the kitchen and stay in your rooms. If you need anything, you can ring for help or ask one of the guards. Do not go into any other wing of the castle. Do not go to the library, or come here. The only part of the corridor I want to see you in is that between your rooms and the main hall. Your meals will be served in your rooms. I don't have enough staff to indulge in formal meals now."

His aunt watched him with a frown.

"What are you trying to hide from me, Adam?"

He sighed with slight exaggeration.

"I want to avoid Lucius coming into contact with more of my people. He has put one on bed rest already, that's quite enough."

"That girl?" she shook her head in incomprehension. "What does she claim happened to her? He didn't hit her."

"He is much stronger than her" Adam stopped himself from growling. "And he managed to hurt her enough to leave her immobile for several days. Now I'm down one person, and at least one other to take care of her for part of the day. Which means Lucius' entertaining himself with anyone else will make a dent in my staff I can't afford this season."

"She is surely exaggerating. Let me see her, I will show you how to properly deal with lazy staff. She is probably just trying to get out of some chores."

"She was unconscious for several hours, ma'am" Plumette heard her own voice. "She can barely move now. She isn't lying."

The elderly woman looked at her with surprise.

"I wonder at your choices of staff, nephew" she said, completely ignoring Plumette. "Way too outspoken."

She turned with a huff and started climbing the stairs.

"Mon Dieu" he groaned. "If they try to stay any longer than three days, _I_ will start wishing we were still cursed."

***

Miraculously, Dame Margot and Lucius - whatever his official title was, Plumette couldn't be made to care less - left after three days of being the most annoying, disgusting and problematic visitors she could recall. They demanded constant attention - that always took two maids, as both Belle and Adam had suggested independently - had requests regarding meals that Mrs Potts felt pressed to fulfil, despite understaffing and were, rather obviously, spying on everything and everyone in the castle.

Their attempts at unearthing the supposed lover of Adam were thwarted at every turn, with even the lower maids taking pleasure in making big eyes and answering "eh, what?" to every question about their master's habits. In the evenings, they sat in the kitchen and tallied the various ways their "visitors" went about digging for the information.

"Today she asked if I've ever seen a woman in the Prince's bedroom" Camilla bit into a hot meat pie. "I told her that I have never seen the inside of the Prince's bedroom, so how could I have seen a woman there?"

"Quite right" Plumette smiled slightly. "What did she say?"

Camilla shrugged.

"She said I was even stupider than I looked, so I thanked her, smiled and went on to catch up with Marie."

"They tried the same with me" Mariette was mending a stocking by the fireplace. "At least three times. I told them the only woman I've ever seen in the Prince's chambers was another maid when we came to change the linens or clean the room. I'm wondering when they are going to understand that there is nothing anyone will tell them."

"As if" Pauline shrugged. "I saw what they did to Mademoiselle, that man is an absolute brute."

"Poor girl" Mrs Potts sighed. "How is she doing today?"

"We managed to bring up some hot water for her" Plumette smiled. "She was so happy to finally clean herself a bit. The bruise ointment is effective, but being covered in layers of it is not something she relishes."

One of the upper maids sniffed derisively.

"Are you sure that what she's telling you is true, Plumette?" she asked in a mock-innocent voice. "After all, she's been hiding other problems already. She knows how to simulate illness. Or how to hide _a condition_."

The silence in the kitchen became instantly oppressive.

Plumette, however, sighed with relief.

"Fine. Very fine. At last someone just told me what they think. You, pack your things. I want you downstairs, with the scullery maids, tonight. Change of pay and uniform applies immediately."

The girl went pasty-white and opened her mouth in outrage.

"Be quiet, Rite" Mrs Potts silenced her before she even managed to form the words. "This is quite enough from you. And from all of you" her gaze touched all the present heavily. "That girl is working herself to the bone, trying to make sure that the Prince is well, that the castle is whole, that the stupid, useless library is managed - yes, I've heard you, too. Stupid useless library, however, yielded a wonderful little recipe for apple-rosehip jam, and if we have anything, we have apples and rosehips, and no other quick way to preserve them in large quantities. This way we will have something fruity that will hopefully keep until the spring comes, so you can thank her when you're hankering for something sweet in April. She also found something I thought was lost, the almanac that had belonged to my second to last predecessor. She had made notes on how to ensure stores are well kept for a long winter. If not for Belle, this would have been hidden in the library forever. And you know what else she did? She made full, detailed plan on how to close the unneeded parts of the castle. Day by day, with a list to ensure that everything is done properly. It's not big, it's not heroic, but for a girl who had to lie on her stomach for three days, I'd say - quite an achievement."

Plumette shrugged.

"I suppose she has had enough heroism and large gestures for two. After the attack..." she shivered. "I hoped the poor _cheries_ will have some quiet in their lives at last, but it seems they are not destined to."

The rebellious maid sat at her end of the table, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Stop looking as if someone had spat in your porridge, Rite. You opened your mouth and you've said it. I know that many others felt the same, of course, but you were the one who voiced it. You will spend three months mending fireplaces, carrying the water and working in the kitchen. That should be enough time to teach you to keep your thoughts to yourself. Anyone else had questions?"

Rite finally didn't manage to stay quiet.

"What is wrong with her then, do you know?" she demanded snidely. "She's not eating anything she gets. Every day someone has to prepare her breakfast and you bring it up there and down here and she eats only a measly piece of toast! Why should we bother at all? And she's with the Master at all hours, night or day! Who knows what she’s up to!"

Plumette's dark eyes turned to her.

"That's because, I'm guessing, someone made Belle believe she was getting too plump to be a duchess" she said coldly. "When I find out who, I will make sure they would rue that day. The poor girl is starving herself."

"She surely did look weird last time she came downstairs. Like her eyes were much deeper than before."

"And her hands trembled when she was putting together the Prince's basket."

"She never eats anything downstairs" Mrs Potts murmured. "She always says that she had eaten the breakfast, or will eat dinner with our Prince, or will eat supper at the library... But she could well be telling the Prince that she's eating down here, and so manage to avoid eating anything of substance" she shook her head. "She will not be able to heal until she is properly fed. Let's just hope our guests leave before we have to call for a medic..."

***

The day their visitors finally did leave, everyone breathed with relief. The lady had made her presence known everywhere, attempting to enter various closed rooms all around the castle - they never knew how she got past the guards posted at her door. She even tried the library, which had been locked the very first night, by Plumette and Lumiere. Inspecting the servants' quarters was interrupted by Adam's intervention, so she couldn't say with any surety that Belle wasn't there. Plumette had also the good idea to lock all the door on the same side of the corridor as Belle's, making sure that this specific room wouldn't stand out.

She considered waking Belle up to see the departure of their tormentors but decided against. Poor girl looked exhausted, despite the bed rest. She was sleeping too much, but still seemed weak and tired, and the fact that Plumette watched her eat apparently didn't make her much happier.

"Ma cherie, the cut on your back had scabbed, and the bruises are fading" she whispered to her mistress. "Let's hope you can be up in a few days. Let's just hope."

Belle slept, her hair in a loose knot, her back kept bare to allow airing of the broken skin and drying of the poultices on the bluer parts of her skin, her fingers clutching the sheets, her lips making small incoherent noises. She wasn’t healing as quickly as they had expected, but maybe, with more food...

A soft knock on the door woke Plumette from her meditative state. She quickly opened the door to let in Rosalie, who had been dispatched to fetch bandages.

“Come on” she turned to the bed quickly “we have to wrap her up, so she can sleep on her back…”

A soft, low, slightly broken “Mon Dieu” didn’t belong in Rosalie’s throat. Or any other maid. Before Plumette could stop him, Adam was in the room, down by the bed, his hands hovering uncertainly over Belle’s yellow-blue skin.

“You said ‘bruises’” he growled, not looking at Plumette directly. “You said ‘scratches’. This…” he swallowed. “You didn’t tell me.”

She sat on the other side of Belle’s narrow, maidenly bed.

“These are bruises, mon prince. And these are scratches. There is just really a lot of them. I couldn’t tell you because that would have changed nothing for Belle, and you would have done irreparable damage to the relations with your family.”

“Don’t manage me” he said, voice low and angry. “You should have told me. I’d have ordered to have a medic fetched.”

“Your aunt was near this room five times a day. I’m not sure how you would have smuggled one in. We had to bring everything inside during the night already.”

He rubbed his face impatiently.

“If these are just scratches, they should have been healed already” he said angrily. “She is still _bleeding_.”

“That’s because she is not healing properly. These should have closed long ago. I'm not sure what to do" she had to admit finally. "I'm afraid we need more help."

"Can you... bandage them? And maybe, well..." he made an aborted gesture towards Belle's wardrobe. "And I will send for a doctor. There should be someone in the village who is at least somewhat competent."

"Or for Agathe" Plumette's eyes widened. "Agathe should..."

She stopped, seeing his face turn to stone. But he nodded.

"Agathe it is" he whispered haltingly. "I'm sure she will be better for Belle than some half-illiterate quack from Villeneuve. At least we can be fairly sure Agathe _likes_ Belle. How do we get the message to her?"

Plumette patted his hand cautiously.

"You go and manage the crop collection, so you can finally marry her" she suggested warmly. "I'll find Agathe."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you think Agathe will be able to help.


	5. Silent Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle wasn't supposed to be too ill to wake up.  
> Plumette ground her teeth.  
> Where is that bloody sorceress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 3/3 of this tiny arc. One more chapter coming to this story and that, I suppose, will be all.  
> It's not like I started off with something specific in my mind - I just saw a scene here and there, and I definitely don't have the right scope for a grand sequel story.  
> So, no more than 10-15k words will be added to this, at some point. This year, I hope :)

Belle looked like a shadow of herself, even the most stubborn of the maids had to admit it. Her whole room was full of them coming and going, bringing in a jug of hot water, towels, fresh linens and everything else that Plumette had not managed by herself for these three days. They all managed to get a good, long look at their mistress-to-be, and none seemed unmoved by the sight.

Plumette sat by the bed, ensconced in Belle's own soft, highbacked chair, keeping Belle's thin wrist in her fingers, reassuring herself by keeping a track of Belle's slow, but steady pulse. The young woman was still asleep, which was partly a blessing - her hip had been quite painful to manage and she couldn't find a position to sleep in comfortably. Thus, she managed to miss half of the castle's staff marching through her rooms, straightening things, replacing items of clothing, collecting laundry, bringing in warmer coverings and preparing the bath.

On the other hand, however, it was quite worrying, so Plumette was growing more and more concerned with her mistress' lack of response, but the message from Agathe was "I will be there in time", so what else could she do? She waited for Belle to wake up, even if for just a moment, a cup of broth waiting by the fireplace, kept warm. She was quite ready to force-feed her lovely, but apparently abysmally stupid mistress because there seemed to be less of her than should be if she was to remain the healthy, outdoorsy girl that had arrived at the castle and charmed everyone, including Cogsworth.

Belle wasn't supposed to be sick. Belle wasn't supposed to be immobile, abed, dependant on others. Belle was supposed to be their leader, their mistress, the proper head of the household. To be the one on which their Prince could depend to tether him in the right place.

Belle wasn't supposed to be too ill to wake up.

Plumette ground her teeth.

_Where is that bloody sorceress?_

"I'm here" Agathe answered from the other side of Belle's bed. "Poor child. She hasn't been taking care of herself, has she?"

Plumette watched her with narrowed eyes, tracking the woman's every move.

"That's impressive, actually" Agathe remarked softly. "She has been starving herself, and still functioning, until...?"

"Until the master's aunt and his cousin arrived" Plumette provided darkly. "The man is, frankly, someone who deserves a curse without a way out. He only held her, not even looking as if he was straining, and he managed to press all of the inserts in her corset out of shape, and bruise her all over."

"Poor thing" Agathe turned Belle's head to look at her from a different angle. "And what then?"

"She fainted, he must have cut off her air. And then our master punched him hard enough for him to let Belle go. She was breathing, but it took her several hours to regain consciousness. And ever since she's been in and out of it..." Plumette sighed. "We would have called someone earlier, but it's only today that she didn't wake up. She was quite well yesterday, making notes for Mrs Potts to manage the servants. And, well. Our visitors finally left today."

"And did she eat anything in that time?" Agathe peeled off Belle's lid, looking at her absent eye.

Plumette grimaced in distaste.

"I managed to get her to drink some broth yesterday. And eat a bit of bread."

Agathe sighed heavily. "That poor, poor girl. I should have been here more often, but I assumed _he_ wouldn't have been happy seeing me" she reached out over Belle's body, moving her fingers slowly over the bruised ribcage. "This is very bad" she whispered. "I have to see her back."

Plumette quickly turned Belle and bared her thin shoulders and spine, wounds hastily covered with bandages. The sorceress removed the provisional dressings and watched at the blood swiftly running down Belle's back, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Poor child. She didn't eat, so her body doesn't have enough strength to heal by itself. This at least I can try to remedy."

Under Agathe's fingers, the wounds finally closed and the bleeding abated. The scars weren't even particularly visible now - only if one knew what to look for. The biggest bruises and slowly yellowing lines denoting clearly where the corset bones had been were slowly fading into pale pinkness.

"Front" Agathe ordered quietly and Plumette could only follow, baring Belle's midsection to the sorceress' eyes. "Good thing she had her corset on" the older woman murmured. "Poor thing could have had her ribs broken. Now they are bruised, and I feel at least one that must be very painful - probably was pressed with one of the corset bones too closely. It seems fractured."

Plumette felt just a little bit faint.

"Now, let's deal with this" Agathe rubbed her hands together and started yet again. The marks on Belle's skin disappeared quickly, but still she spent some time focused on the rib itself. "Anything else?"

Plumette pointed to Belle's hip.

"She kept complaining of her leg not working correctly in this hip" she said. "She couldn't say very clearly what was wrong with it, just saying that it doesn't work as it should."

Agathe frowned and put both of her hands directly on the girl's side, her glare focused almost as if she could see through Belle's skin.

"This..." she made a small movement as if pushing a bit of air. "This man is something else" she finally concluded. "He did it just by pulling her?"

Plumette nodded slowly.

"A curse would be wasted on him" Agathe grunted, _pushing_ again.

"What?!"

"Curse..." the sorceress wiped her face. "He wouldn't benefit from it."

"How..."

"He doesn't seem reformable" she explained. "You all - Adam obviously, but all of you, too - you changed. He had a clear focus, he did what he was supposed to do, he grew up. Do you foresee that cousin of his actually changing?"

Plumette slowly shook her head.

"You see? If I cursed him, he wouldn't be able to even define the condition for the curse to end. What could I say? To stop being an insensitive brute who takes pleasure in beating up others? It is a chance that he would have been happy with a beastly form, actually."

Plumette shivered and focused on Belle again.

***

Half an hour later Agathe was sitting by the fireplace, looking into it silently.

"She won't wake up" she said finally. "It's as if something was keeping her there. I can't make sense of it."

Plumette was on a verge of biting her nails. Her, a grown woman. A professionalist. A skilled, knowledgeable, well-rounded... She was afraid.

The girl had risked her life, had actually committed to the life with them in order to save them. She sacrificed herself - in a very pleasant way, at the end, but how was she supposed to know that the Prince would be handsome enough to tempt her? And she never asked them for anything more than acceptance. She told them to call her by her name, to avoid using her future title, to consider her a friend.

And they couldn't save _her_.

"I need to tell the master" she said finally, swallowing in effort. "He should be here."

Agathe sighed and nodded.

***

Belle looked terrible.

Agathe, sitting by her bedside, hands outstretched and face tight with effort, looked positively exhausted. Her hands trembled, small particles of golden light falling from them onto Belle's body.

"It isn't working" she whispered. "It seems as if there is something working against me."

He stepped forward.

"What could be doing that?"

She sent him a glare.

"Another curse" her voice was low and rough. "Someone cursed Belle and nobody even _noticed_."

He sank to his knees on the rough woollen rug next to the bed.

"Who could have done this?" he asked, taking Belle's hand and bestowing a kiss on the thin knuckles. "What kind of a curse makes someone starve and fall asleep?"

She wiped her face with a piece of towel.

"I've heard of a princess, somewhere in the Germanies, who slept for many years, due to a curse put on her with a spindle. There was another, also in the Germanies, which ate a magicked apple and fell asleep akin to death. Each of them was awoken by her love's kiss."

"Germany seems to be an interesting country" he growled. "What does it have to do with Belle?"

"Each curse had a powerful caster behind it. One was a proper, full curse, with a condition to end it included - a kiss. The second didn't work as the caster had predicted, and still, the kiss worked."

"You think I should...?"

She nodded.

Adam sighed, moved up the bed, to where Belle's braided hair sneaked across her pillow in a heavy rope and held her face in his hands. Slowly, cautiously, he brushed away the auburn strands from her forehead and pressed his lips to hers.

***

“It’s all my fault” he sighed, brokenly. “I should have dealt with my family earlier on, or married her immediately after the curse was broken, but I wanted… I wanted to give her a normal courtship. Something resembling a-- a romance!”

“You couldn’t have predicted she would be assaulted in your own home” Agathe didn’t even sound very patronising, he had to admit. “And who could have predicted a second curse? Marriage would not have prevented it, I assure you.”

"What does it require, to cast a curse?" Plumette asked, frowning. "Would they have to touch her? Speak to her? Give her something?"

Agathe nodded and shrugged at the same time.

"All the curses are different, but most require a spell and the cursed person coming into contact with an object - a focus. Unfortunately, like in the stories from the Germanies, these can happen separately - the spell doesn't have to be cast in that person's presence. But..." she shook her head. "Most people who cast a curse do it with a lot of affectation - you were witnesses to mine, of course. The others were pretty much the same - grand gestures and threats. Quite similar to what I did - aimed to impress, in my case, or to terrify, in some others."

"But does it have to be actually a big event?" Plumette finally asked, considering each word separately. "Can't the curse be cast quietly? Nothing significant had happened since your curse was broken, and Belle was quite fine for the next few weeks."

"It is possible that the magic was cast in isolation, and only the magical object itself was given to Belle" Agathe closed her eyes. "Can you remember, when you did you first notice that there was something, well, different about Belle?"

They exchanged a glance.

"A week and a few days, no more" Plumette says hesitantly. "I thought she ate too little for breakfast, but we were in such a hurry recently I only noticed it when I was collecting the tray later, and then I never remembered what I had brought in exactly."

Adam rubbed his eyes.

"Two weeks" he said, his voice hollow. "Two weeks, exactly from that day when we started working in the fields. I remember, we had supper in the library, I was so hungry after that whole day in the field and I thought for a moment that she had not eaten enough. But she had always been so healthy, and never held herself from eating things she liked. And she sat there with me, eating a bit of soup and just half slice of bread, but I assumed she had eaten earlier, or- or that she was worried about what happened earlier. Or that I was just comparing what she ate to what I ate, and obviously, that would not be the same amount of food..."

"So, exactly since that day, yes?"

Plumette nodded slowly.

"At least the day before I remember that for sure she did eat a big supper. She had even snatched some fruit when she was going to her room, and the two of them had definitely cleared a huge tray of cream puffs - I know, because we spoke about them later. And" she nodded towards Adam "the master isn't very particularly keen about them."

"Also, I really liked watching her eat them" he snorted weakly. "She makes..." he buried his face in his hands. "She made most adorable faces. Dieu, pourquoi?"

"There is still a chance" Agathe said tiredly. "What you say means someone must have slipped her something during that day. Between the supper - which she ate as usual - and the next evening. Tell me what happened."

Looking at one another, they slowly went through Belle's day - she was never more than a few steps from at least one of them, fortunately.

"So, she ate her breakfast?"

"Yes, she was very excited for the day and even managed to spill some tea, trying to eat quicker."

"And then, during the day?"

"She definitely ate an apple" Plumette frowned. "I remember her licking her fingers and looking for a place to throw away the core."

"That she did. But she ate apples all the time, even just before my aunt arrived, so it doesn't mean anything, really. Any time after breakfast then."

They all sat in silence, Belle's shallow breaths not loud enough to be heard over the fireplace sounds.

"She had to be given something specific, something with a meaning" Agathe shook her head. "Sometimes it is a common object, something she knows already, simply imbued with new meaning. Sometimes it's a completely new thing..."

"If we find it, can we undo the curse?"

"Will we even know if we found it?"

Agathe nods assuredly. "That much I can do."

***

In the end, they didn't have to burn the blue dress. The recently demoted Rite admitted to having sewn a bit of old amulet into the hem, when she was assisting Madame and Plumette in refreshing it, so they could simply undo the seam and excise the offending object.

"She wasn't supposed to die" the maid said sullenly. "I just wanted her gone."

"Well, you won't have to see her ever again" Plumette answered sweetly, closing the side gate behind her. "Don't let the wolves eat you on your way to Villeneuve."

***

"We'll have to wash it" Agathe viewed the garment in distaste. "It's reeking of magic, by contamination. If it was silk, the curse would have never spread, but this is linen and cotton, very vulnerable."

"So, silk helps?" Plumette motioned Rosalie to pour in some warm water. "A lady dressed in silks wouldn't have been at risk?"

"Of course she could be" Agathe made a small sound. "One can curse their leather shoes, their gloves, their hairpins... If pressed, I could probably curse a wig."

They pushed the blue dress into the soapy water with sticks, making sure to soak it thoroughly.

"And now what? The amulet - what do we do with it? What was it even supposed to do?"

"It makes whispers louder" Agathe grimaced. "In the meaning of making someone listen more to others than to themselves."

"So Mademoiselle would have heard everything people said about her, and this made her eat less? How is it even possible?" Rosalie handed Plumette a jar of soap shavings.

"Some of them probably made suppositions regarding her relationship with the master. Including the village staple, suggestions of pregnancy. Or at least allusions to her being too common or too fat to marry so over her class. Or both."

Plumette pushed the dress down with grim determination.

"How will washing the dress help?"

"Not immediately" Agathe added some more soap. "But it will make sure she won't be coming in contact with it again. I asked the kitchen to heat up enough water for a big bath for her. She's probably covered with this... this pseudo-curse."

Because that was what it was. The amulet wasn't even an actual, personal curse. It was just affecting anyone who touched it - or contaminating anything it was carried in. This made Belle's dress - and aprons, and corsets - the curse-carriers in their own right, just by touch. And it meant that Belle herself was literally covered with it, like a contamination. Which made a big, warm, herbal bath the best remedy.

***

Once the bathing water was ready, they left the dress in the tender care of Rosalie and a laundry maid and hurried upstairs to attend to Belle. A whole dozen maids carried the pails upstairs and to the small room, where a big, copper tub was set, right next to the fireplace.

"After washing, she cannot go back to her own bed" Agathe was rather grim. "Everything will have to be washed, even the pillows. I'd discard the mattress, too. It would only make her ill again."

"It's a good thing that... infection doesn't survive contact with water" Plumette opened the door and let the girls with buckets enter before her. "Otherwise, I don't know what we could have done."

"We were quite fortunate, considering."

"Indeed."

"You will have to select all the dresses that she wore during these two weeks, all the shifts and underthings, and send them to be properly washed. Even at the risk of ruining the cloth. They are too dangerous, to anyone."

The room was warm, the fireplace bricks emanating heat, and the room occupant still asleep, oblivious to the commotion around her.

"Maria" Plumette stopped one of the maids who came to bring in towels. "Take a few girls and prepare a room, but not... Mon Dieu. It would be for the best if she didn't even stay in this corridor, probably. It will be more convenient to put her up simply down the hall from the master. This way we will be able to close this whole wing once and for all. Yes. Pick one of the bigger rooms on the family side, and prepare everything with completely fresh linens. And bring me one of my winter nightdresses from my room, you know where I keep them. And the nightrobe. We'll have to re-dress Mademoiselle in things she had never worn before, at least until all her own gowns are laundered.

Maria curtsied and ran towards Plumette's own, rarely used, room.

"She isn't that much taller than you, my dear. This is a good solution. Now, let's get her into the bath - definitely out of that shift, first."

***

The herbs in the water made it go a bit green and smelled of mint and sage. This gave the small room an appearance of a still room or an apothecary. Agathe's strong hands supported Belle's head on the tall rim of the tub, as Plumette worked on her mistress' body with a large washcloth.

"She is always so independent, you know. She would never indulge in the laziness of the court, like the ladies who can't even blow their noses without help. She insisted on washing herself, washing her hair, dressing herself to bed" she rubbed some lavender soap on Belle's neck and scrubbed it vigorously. "You know why? Because she decided I need more free time in the evenings. That was the day before the curse, in fact. She said that she's been able to take a bath by herself since she was five, so she doesn't need my assistance. Poor kitten, she would have been most humiliated..."

"Better humiliated and alive than dead and... dead."

***

"Now, this is done, and I hope she never asks how exactly we did it" Plumette brought another pail of water and placed a basin just behind the tub, where Belle's hair was hanging in sweat-matted tangle. "First, one time into the tub, then we wash and rinse. At least thrice, her hair is so thick I wouldn't be surprised if it kept more of that blasted contamination than her dresses."

"And the last rinse with sage, just to make sure."

They wrangled Belle's prone form lower into water and soaked her hair in the fragrant, soapy water. Three lathers and rinses later Agathe could no longer feel the amulet's aura on the thick strands, so they pulled her up into a sitting position again and combed the hair out of her face.

"And, at last..."

Plumette took a small, flannel washcloth and immersed it in a basin filled with fresh, clean water infused with sage. Carefully, inch by inch, she worked over Belle's face, hoping to remove any trace of the curse. She wiped around the nose, under the hair, even inside the ears. Simply to make sure. Her fingers trembled as she withdrew, leaving Belle for a moment just sitting there, still and barely breathing, in the warm water.

"Mon Dieu, she looks like a broken doll..."

"Let's hope this will help to fix her" Agathe suggested. "Now, rinse her whole with the same water as you used to clean her face, just to make sure. I'll pull her up. One, two..."

***

The newly prepared room was, of course, rather far, so they couldn't transport Belle there directly. To prepare her for the drafty and probably rather chilly trip, they had requested to have a new chaise-lounge brought so that they could dry and dress her, comb her hair and plait it. As they sat tiredly, all done, in the steam-filled room, she never stirred and never even made a sound.

"Will it work?"

"If she has enough strength in her heart, it should."

"If it doesn't, we'll..."

"That boy will be devastated, yes."

"We should take her to the new room, it should be ready by now."

"I'll call in the guards."

Plumette had a thick blanket prepared to hand to the guard, in order to wrap Belle up properly, but Adam had apparently thought of it in advance and brought his own. He simply looked at her heavily when she exclaimed in surprise on his arrival and his expression did not invite any comment. She helped him to cautiously pick up Belle and then tucked the edges of the thick wool in, to ensure it staying in place for the duration of the trek through the corridors.

Once they entered the last, small hall, Adam unerringly turned towards his own room.

"The room for Belle is prepared there" Plumette made a valiant attempt at stopping him. "Mon Prince, you shouldn't..."

"Merde. I should and I will. My rooms are warm, and don't try to tell me they've managed to heat up that icebox on the end of the hall already. There is nothing in my rooms that she had touched for more than few minutes, and I dare say all persons needed can easily tend to her here. I can sit with her during the night and come up here during every break from the fieldwork. It is most certainly more comfortable than that... closet."

"But, master!"

He stood still for a moment, breathing deeply.

"Get a maid to fetch us some food. Soup, bread, whatever you think will work for her, when she wakes up. And then take the whole evening off. And tell Lumiere to stay away. I will send a guard if I require help, but the two of you should finally get some sleep. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of her from this point."

"Adam" she touched his elbow cautiously. "What about her reputation?"

His smile seemed sad, but somehow on a verge of curling up into a sneer.

"I don't really care. In two weeks we are getting married. If she survives. I hope being alive will have more meaning than staying proper in the eyes of the stupid villagers."

"These stupid villagers are your subjects. Will be hers. They have to respect her."

The sneer widened, by just a fraction.

"They will. I won't have it any other way."

***

She was drowning in the wide, long-sleeved shirt and gown.

The next sensation she noticed was warmth, over her legs and lower body.

The third was a pair of hands massaging her own, rubbing up and down her arms, then her shoulders, then down to her fingers again.

"You're so cold" his voice was the fourth. "You need to wake up, ma petite. You need to wake up, you need to open your pretty eyes and look at me. I know you are there, you just need to wake up."

It seemed quite hard to follow what he was saying, but she couldn't muster enough strength to react.

"You are in my rooms and I’m not letting them take you away. It was a stroke of genius, to bring you here. Plumette can't come and throw me out. After all, this is _my_ bedroom" he was back at her fingers, rubbing each of them separately, bringing blood into her helpless, almost devoid of feeling, palms. "I know she cares, and she was quite right to scold me - people will talk. And so you have to wake up, so that all the preparations that Mrs Potts is making don't go to waste. Wake up, Belle. You have a wedding to attend."

She wanted to say something, feeling his distress, but it was so hard to move.

"Plumette and Agathe really don't know what to do anymore. It's been two days since you fell asleep and I really hope you won't make me wait much longer. But now, I have to go and talk to the staff, so Rosalie will sit with you."

The bed dipped slightly and then there was a large hand, holding her cheek, a thumb stroking her lips and a mouth that oh so sweetly pressed into hers. Before she could even think about it, the touch was gone and she felt cold in the places that had been so blissfully warm a moment before.

Her hand snagged his sleeve.

"Stay" she whispered. "Don't go."

In a flash, he was sitting by her on the bed, holding her up, pressing kisses into her hair, repeating her name in a broken whisper, over and over again.

“Adam!” she managed to push on his shoulder, albeit not very effectively. “What is wrong? Why… Is this really your room?!”

“You were ill” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “We had to move you from your room, and I decided it will be best if you just stayed here. This was the only properly heated place and..." he tucked her under his chin and enveloped her in his arms "...I didn't want to be parted with you anymore. I couldn't stand this. We are not supposed to be separated. We should have gotten married that very first day after the curse, and nobody would have protested."

"We weren't ready" she whispered, breathing in his scent - soap and leather - and pressing into him, quite indecently, but so comfortingly. "We needed time to get to know each other again."

"But we could marry now" he suggested, holding his breath until she answered.

"You promised me a wedding after the harvest" she pointed out, making a small circle on his chest with her finger. "I will hold you to that promise."

"What about having it done earlier? We could... we should take a break from the fields for Sunday - most of the staff will want to attend church anyway, and we could ask Pere Robert to come and marry us in the castle chapel. This way you won't need to travel and we would have a priest that likes you here."

She nodded slowly.

"But not until I can stand on my own" she said decisively. "If I can't walk to the altar, I'm not ready to be married. You need a wife who doesn't depend on your strength all the time."

"I like being strong for you" he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I like being able to pick you up, carry you around and hold you in my arms."

"But _I_ like to be able to walk on my own. And I want to be properly dressed in that fabulous dress that Madame prepared for me, and it would become wrinkled if you had to carry me all the way down there."

He sighed.

"Awake for twenty minutes and already so imperious" he protested half-heartedly. "Ma petite reine, it will be exactly as you wish. The first Sunday after you are able to walk on your own, we shall marry. Now, should I call for Plumette? Do you need anything?"

She sat up a bit straighter and leaned into him.

"I need you to hold me a bit longer" she admitted, her face growing warm. "And I need you to kiss me, properly this time. No more of that corr..."

His lips quieted her complain and they sat there, on his bed - which, if he had his way, he would much rather never let her leave - exploring each other's mouths with slow, cautious movements. Until Belle's stomach growled. She blushed vivid red and he laughed - for the first time in four days, he laughed honestly.

"I'm hungry" she groaned. "No wonder, if I was _asleep_ for two days!"

He smothered his chortling by kissing her hair, cheeks and eyes repeatedly.

"My love, finally" he gasped and pulled her closer. "There is a supper waiting for you. You will eat, and then we can plan."

"Oui. I won't be able to focus until I've eaten. Two days can do a lot of damage, apparently! I feel ravenous, like never before in my life!"

He sighed quietly and kissed her hair again.

"Wait here, I will bring everything you need."

  
***

 

Belle's eyes grew wide with every sentence of Plumette's story. Her maid, sitting on a tall chair, related all that had happened in the previous two days - her collapse, Agathe's arrival, their search for the curse, Rite's dismissal.

"You had to _what_?" Belle hissed.

Plumette nodded.

"There was no other way. The curse worked by touch - the more you wore a specific dress..."

"And I wore it every day, except when it was laundered..."

"And by then other things 'caught' it and whatever you wore, was also making you more and more sick."

"Mon Dieu" she pulled herself up to sit properly. "Did you have to burn them all?"

Plumette patted her hand.

"Agathe fortunately suggested we wash it first, and it helped. That's why we bathed _you_ \- to remove all traces from your skin."

Belle blushed, imagining easily how much of her skin had to be properly washed to make sure...

"Ah" she stammered. "And that's why I'm now wearing this gown?"

"It's mine" Plumette nodded. "Also, you needed much warmer clothes than what you normally wear. What with you being so thin now, you get chilled much quicker. Once you regain your weight, you'll feel much better and by then all your things will have been laundered, dried, mended and redone, where needed. Fortunately you didn't touch the wedding gown in these two weeks, so this one is clear.

Belle sighed.

"Wedding gown, yes. It's not as if I want to disparage Madame, but her style is..."

"Opulent" Plumette provided.

"Quite. And I was actually thinking about making a few changes to the dress. I need it to be simpler. The Prince is not marrying a duchess, or princess or... whatever. A comtesse. He is marrying a simple girl and _making_ her a princess. I feel I need the dress to say that."

Plumette nodded reluctantly.

"It will be hard to redo it now" she warned.

"It depends on the actual changes" Belle smiled and reached for a sheet of paper and one of the books. "Now, I need her to remove that whole section of plain material here, and replace it with blue. The same on the bodice, to make it one long blue insert. And to remove all the little frills from the front. And reduce the sleeves, I need to be able to move. And put some golden highlights in all of it, here, and here" she made marks on the sketch of the dress she drew quickly. "Ask Madame to make it less of a wedding gown and more... more Harvest Queen. And I will not be wearing that headdress. I will need a wreath."

Plumette frowned.

"A what?"

"A wreath. Made of untreshed wheat, field flowers and grapevine leaves" Belle sat quietly for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "It will make for better symbolism, you see" she offered finally. "The high and mighty prince marrying a commoner. The prince marrying the symbol of the land. Very romantic. Very... symbolic..." she drifted away, still sitting up, her hair escaping the confines of her plait and spreading like a golden-brown halo around her head.

Plumette shook her head, but made a note on the page she liberated from Belle's fingers.

"You will have your wreath, ma princesse, if you wish."

Belle sighed and licked her lips, smiling slightly.

"Don't tell Adam" she said softly. "I want this to be... a surprise."

 


	6. Golden Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the grand finale :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient. It took me much too long to finish this, but once I had the vision of how this chapter should go, I completed it in less than three hours.  
> Unfortunately I didn't manage to draw the dress, like I was planning, but maybe I will get to this at some point in the future :)

If Plumette had been allowed her way, Belle would have spent another week at least recuperating.

But it was Belle who managed to overrule everyone - except for Agatha, who wasn't much help, however - and who very decisively set the date - or rather, The Date - to that particular Sunday. 20th of September was the perfect day for a Harvest Festival - with all the crops in, the castle almost ready for the winter, the stores filling with preserves and cellars full of vegetables carefully put away for long storage.

Cogsworth was in his element, ordering everyone about and planning an elaborate feast with Mrs Potts. Plumette was on the verge of nervous collapse, Lumiere started taking long walks to take some air and Adam...

Adam was valiantly trying not to bite off anyone's head, even though being poked and prodded by two tailor assistants was becoming rather annoying.

Belle was disappearing into Madame's rooms for every half-day, accompanied by Plumette, two maids and the town seamstress (who was also the town's second largest gossip and so could be counted on to share some facts with everyone in Villenueve - to wit, the fact that Belle was certainly _not_ carrying the Prince's child).

The little chapel was cleaned, brushed, washed and polished to high shine, a new altar-cloth had been sewn and decorated for the purpose of the wedding mass and Père Robert was expected to be there at seven o'clock on Sunday morning.

Everything seemed to be, for once, happening in the right order and moving towards the expected happy end without obstacles.

Adam knew perfectly well that it only meant his family was planning something, but with the autumn setting in and the roads becoming less and less usable in the area, he could reasonably hope that none of his relatives would be willing to brave the weather and mud (or snow) they would encounter on their way to his castle.

What he wanted, sometimes (but only sometimes) was for something akin to the curse to come back. He wanted his friends and tiny family, to have the father-in-law Maurice was promising to become and to have the rest of the world as far away from them as possible. The idea of his idiotic family or, even worse, the royal court, interfering with his life was abhorrent, and the possibility of any of them touching Belle again made _him_ raise _his_ furry head and roar soundlessly in Adam's mind.

No. There would be no more unexpected visitors.

Agathe gave them that much. Once the wedding was done, nobody but selected invited guests would get to the castle. He would get his pseudo-curse, if only for two seasons. From spring onwards they would be on their own.

He would have half a year to come up with strategy to deal with his relatives.

_Ouch._

The tailor pinned yet another piece of material in place, poking him by accident.

He dearly hoped there was some kind of punishment for all tailors in the afterlife. Maybe they got to sit on a sack full of pins for centuries.

Now, they only had to survive until Sunday without any major catastrophe.

 

####

 

Mrs Potts was baking. She was baking a cake and _she_ was baking. The heat of the kitchens and the hard work of all the staff (herself included) made breathing in the stuffy chambers barely possible. Yet, she persevered. Miss Belle would have the most beautiful cake in the country, one to match her radiance and the Prince's love.

In cahoots with Plumette, she knew just what to put her creation to make it not only decorative but edible to everyone, especially the newly married pair. The decorations of spun sugar would be placed thorough the expanse of the confection, the layer of marzipan dyed in varied colours would imitate Belle's dress and the strong blackcurrant preserve inside and the blackcurrant liquor used to douse the cake were the Master's favourite (and the Mademoiselle wasn't indifferent to them either).

There were desserts cooling in the icebox, ingredients for all dishes ready, cleaned and peeled, awaiting only the right time to be handed to the maids and younger cooks. Wine and ale was chosen from the cellar and sweet apple cider was already bubbling in its barrels.

Everything was going splendidly.

 

####

 

On Sunday the dawn was pink and orange and hopeful.

The grounds were swept clean, the maids and footmen out since before sunup removing all fallen twigs and leaves, the kitchens serving hot rolls and soup to everyone working outside, the guards patrolling the roads and inside the castle everyone was awake except for Belle.

Plumette, knowing her charge well, had managed to slip two drops of sleeping infusion provided by Agathe into Belle's evening tea, and so the girl had slept the night through with no terrors, awakenings or fears.

Yet, the _P_ _ère_ had arrived and it was the time to wake the Princess finally, so she could talk to the chaplain and make her confession.

The dress in the corner was something from another world - with the changes Belle insisted on (and Madame finally gave into) and the improvements they added, there was no doubt the Prince would be quite enchanted. In the good way, of course.

The girl in the bed was just as pretty as she had been on the day they had turned human. Her face again full, her hair shiny and healthy, her skin alabaster-pale and pink, she was the princess they wanted and the wife their prince deserved.

Of course, her mental acuity was even more important to the whole society of the castle than her looks.

"Belle" she shook the younger woman's shoulder. "Ma Princesse, you have to wake up. The _P_ _ère_ is here, and I suppose you'd rather be dressed more appropriately when he comes to see you."

Belle stretched like a cat under her covers and burrowed deeper into the warmth.

"No" she mumbled finally. "Not getting up. Sleep."

"Should I tell the Prince that the wedding is off, then?" she joked, poking Belle's tightly curled form with one finger.

"Wh... what!?"

"Oh, _that_ made you sit up. Now, cherie, out of this bed and to the washbasin. I brought fresh hot water, too, so you can have a better start of the day. Now, my lady, your tooth powder, your soap and the towels. I'll be along shortly to help you with the hair."

 

####

 

She was buzzing with excitement and unable to find a place for herself. The morning spent on preparations and confession made to Père Robert didn't really take her attention away from what was supposed to happen at noon.

"Are you sure, dearest?" her father shook his head slightly. "You look..."

"Just like I wish to look. A girl marrying the man of her dreams. Papa, this is exactly as I planned. Just as I wished. Adam..." she sighed and felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks. "He is everything, Papa. Absolutely everything. And I want to at least surprise him with that."

She corrected the way the wreath was sitting on her hair and smiled at herself in the mirror.

"Perfect impersonation of the Autumn, ma cherie" Plumette joined them, pulling the door shut behind her. "Now, time to get you to the chapel, I suppose. Our Prince is already there, waiting. Jean-Pierre has escorted him personally, to make sure he doesn't fiddle with his attire too much. Oh, he is dressed properly, at last!"

Belle sighed, suddenly anxious.

"Maybe I should leave this..."

"No, no! Darling, it was an inspired idea and I won't have you back out now. Let's go now and see this through."

"Papa, go first and sit there. Plumette, you too. I will walk in alone. I told Adam that I need to be able to walk to the altar by myself. I have to prove to everyone I _am_ able to do this, to be a proper lady of the castle."

They left, albeit slightly surprised. She stood her ground and convinced them to just let her _be_ for a few minutes.

Finally, after breathing deeply a few times, she arose and started walking towards the exit closest to the chapel. A bouquet of autumn flowers mixed with stems of wheat and rye was waiting for her, prepared by Rosalie, so she collected it on the way outside.

The crowd in front of the chapel noticed her and quieted.

As she approached, they parted, making a corridor of human bodies leading towards the chapel door, thrown wide open. They bowed as she passed and none of the old whispers lingered in the air behind her.

Adam was standing at the altar, fiddling with his cuffs, Lumiere next to him, a calming hand on his shoulder. They both looked up as the slight wave of murmur from the crowd reached them.

 

####

 

He followed Lumiere's stunned gaze and there she was.

Not in virginal white silk or in cream satin. Not in sunny yellow, as was her wont, or in blue that so complimented her skin.

She had all of them, and the combination was astonishing. He knew next to nothing of ladies' fashions and wouldn't have been able to tell the styles apart but he knew _this_ was something in a class of its own.

It was so Belle he would have cried, had Lumiere not insisted on painting his eyes, at least slightly.

Belle needed no such artifice.

Belle needed absolutely nothing to bring out the luminosity of her eyes and the perfect complexion that shone brightly in the noon sun.

Belle simply _was_.

He turned towards her, straightening his spine and pulling his shoulders a bit back.

And she stood there, at the entrance to the chapel, smiling slightly, looking as if she had stepped down from a painting of old - the very image of Ceres, the goddess of plenty, of fruit and of harvest. Her dress was the perfect mix of pearly white that was appropriate for a maiden, of gold and orange, colours of the season that was on them and blue, the colour of summer and of Belle herself.

She took a step inside and he saw her even better.

Her loose, long hair had been brushed to high sheen and left unpowdered, adorned only with the small wheat wreath and field flowers.

She stood there, looking up at him at the altar, a goddess come to Earth to be joined in matrimony with a common man.

He never loved her more than in that very moment.

Against all rules and propriety, he turned back to the surprised Père Robert and walked up to the door, where she was standing as if petrified, and bowed deeply.

"Mon amour" he managed to say through choked throat. "Please?"

Her hand came up to join his and she allowed herself to be lead up to the altar, handing her flowers to Plumette at the last second.

Finally, they knelt next to each other, awaiting the chaplain's blessing.

There was nothing that could come between them anymore.

The only future they had was gilded with the promise of the autumn sun. The harvest was done. The hard work was finished.

Now they would have the time to celebrate in leisure.

He raised his gaze at her and smiled at the light in her golden eyes.


End file.
